


Feels Like Magic

by PotteredUp



Category: The Magicians (TV), The Magicians - Lev Grossman
Genre: Alternate Timelines, Bisexual Male Character, Crushes, Cuddling & Snuggling, Embarrassment, First Dates, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Mutual Pining, Romantic Comedy, Season/Series 01, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Truth Spells
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-03
Updated: 2019-07-15
Packaged: 2020-02-16 19:00:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 33,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18697357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PotteredUp/pseuds/PotteredUp
Summary: Eliot Waugh constantly found excuses to touch Quentin Coldwater. Unsurprisingly, every bit of contact rendered Q into an adorable but incredibly frazzled bundle of nerves. And while it was easy enough to brush off El's physical affection as just part of his personality, what Quentin hadn't realized is that if he wanted Eliot, in any capacity, all he had to do was ask.A season one sexual tension-driven romantic comedy full of mutual pining and the delightful awkwardness of navigating a new relationship. Takes place in an alternate timeline that gets especially interesting when Quentin accidentally ends up on the receiving end of a particularly brutal truth spell.COMPLETE





	1. Ten Questions

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to start over at the beginning and play with the idea of what could've happened between Quentin and Eliot if Alice and Mike weren't in the picture. This also takes place in a timeline where Julia got into Brakebills.

Eliot Waugh _constantly_ found excuses to touch Quentin Coldwater. Pulling him by the hand, patting him on the head, and even wiping a smudge of food off of his chin came completely naturally to Eliot. As soon as Quentin stumbled out of his Brakebills University entrance exam, Eliot quietly celebrated the fact that his new friend had passed the test and immediately dialed up the physical affection to eleven.

And every time Eliot touched Quentin, the latter dedicated a larger than usual amount of his brain power to making it look like he _wasn’t_ experiencing warm, prickly sensations wherever Eliot’s deft fingers happened to graze him. Nobody needed to know that his stomach was practically bursting with butterflies or that he definitely wasn’t paying attention to whatever was being said around him as soon as Eliot’s hands (or legs or _oh god those lips_ ) made contact. Nope, sorry, no weird feelings over here. All of Quentin’s charismatic, tall, and endlessly cool friends touch him like this all the time - don’t yours?

In fact, Quentin’s current internal monologue was sent racing for the finish line because Eliot had reached across the gap between them on the couch and placed his hand so lightly on top of Quentin’s, effectively taking Q’s attention off of the textbook where it currently rested. Their friends were deep in conversation, but Q hadn't really felt like he belonged in it. So after a few minutes, he had started studying for an exam while the others chatted around him. Eliot had noticed this because, to be honest, he _always_ noticed whatever Quentin was doing and reached out in an attempt to pull him back in. Plans for that night were coming together and he knew that Q would probably want to hear them. That way, Quentin could prepare himself for whatever they’d be roping him into this time.

“Hm?” a mildly rattled Quentin said, looking up a bit bleary-eyed from a particularly interesting passage and finding himself making immediate eye contact with Eliot. Whenever their eyes locked, those familiar feelings surged again, but Quentin worked to hold his gaze there anyway.

“We’re going off campus. We need party supplies. You’re coming with us, right?” Eliot leaned in and said quietly while everyone else got up from the couches. The last sentence should’ve sounded like a question, curling up at the end like one of Eliot’s immaculately coiffed locks of hair, but Quentin noted that it did not. He actually didn’t mind being gently ordered around, he decided; Eliot made it surprisingly easy for Quentin to be social in grad school; all he had to do was follow.

“Mmhmm. Yeah, just gimme a second,” Quentin breathed out quietly, unable to work up any more volume than that as he shut his book and started shuffling his belongings back into his messenger bag. As Eliot started to get up from the couch, he slid his hand down to Quentin’s thigh and squeezed lightly, just above his knee, before he walked away. Quentin’s eyes tentatively followed him, attempting to blink away the hallucination that Eliot was stepping away in slow motion.

This is magic, right? Because it feels like magic, these invisible sparks coursing outward from Quentin’s knee in every direction. There was no other way to explain why his whole body could be so affected by a touch that, to anyone else, probably wouldn’t be a big deal. Is this just what Eliot’s magic feels like? Does everyone else feel it too?

Quentin couldn’t remember if he had always reacted this way to Eliot’s touch. Maybe it started with a flicker and steadily grew to its current harshly burning sun with every new sensation, but the brighter that light became, the more difficult it was to ignore. He silently wondered if anyone could tell simply by looking at him that his insides were catching fire in the best way since he did put quite a lot of effort into hiding it.

Eliot could tell. In fact, he thrived on it. It felt so good to see how even the most innocent brush with his knuckles could bring a rosy flush to Q’s cheeks and raise his pulse. Of course, he never said anything about it, at least not to Quentin himself. El didn’t want to risk that his favorite first year would get uncomfortable and move just out of reach. To Eliot’s delight, he never did. Sure, Q nearly squirmed in his seat every time El rested a hand on his shoulder, but he still didn’t shrug it away.

The truth was, Eliot had admitted to himself weeks ago that he was head over heels for Quentin Coldwater but he had a feeling that this crush was probably going to be the kind where he found himself getting, well, crushed. He didn’t have a great read on Q’s sexuality; as far as Eliot could tell, the kid was equally as awkward with even vaguely romantic interactions with all genders. He displayed some seriously adorable reactions to Eliot’s admittedly tame advances, but Q hadn’t made even a tiny move or comment back in his direction since they started. So while Eliot continued to keep Quentin close, he hid away his hope that his freely shared signs of affection would lead to something more and concentrated on being a supportive friend to Q.

-

The day they’d met, Eliot returned from dropping off Quentin at his entrance exam in quite a state. “Bambi, wait until you see him. His _dimples_ ,” Eliot whined dramatically to his best friend, draping himself across the back of the armchair Margo was sitting on.

“You and your first-years,” she sighed, feeling an amused smile start to tug at the corners of her mouth. “Am I going to have to pick up the broken pieces of your heart again when he fails and Dean Fogg wipes away all memory of you?”

Eliot stood up immediately, fixing his vest and smoothing out his pants now that he had made his point. “Oh, he’s getting in. I’m already scheduled to be there when he finds out so I can be the first person available to give him a tour of the campus,” he asserted. “You’ll be there to help, right?”

A smirk twisted across Margo’s face. “You know I wouldn’t miss it.”

-

Eliot wasn’t the only one who had noticed just how jittery Quentin became around him. In fact, quite quickly after she received her acceptance into Brakebills, Julia Wicker picked up on the pretty intense vibes between her childhood friend and one of their campus tour guides.

“And this is the cafeteria, but if you know what’s good for you, you’ll let me wine and dine you at least once a week. I cook on Tuesday nights in the Physical Kids’ cottage and you have now been officially invited,” Eliot said, wrapping his arm around Quentin briefly before he continued walking forward, dragging a trail across Q’s back with his fingertips before he sauntered on ahead. “Dress like you’re going on a really nice date,” he called back to them.

Quentin’s eyes were practically bulging out of his head and he had forgotten how to walk, so he just stood frozen in place as he watched Eliot walk ahead of them.

“Who _is_ he,” Julia quietly breathed in Quentin’s direction as she also came to a full stop. The sound he made in response wasn’t exactly made up of words (unless you spoke fluent balloon-being-emptied), but it certainly got the point across.

Julia turned her attention to Q and tried to hold back her grin, simultaneously amused and genuinely happy that her friend was clearly already falling for someone at their new school.

“LET’S GO,” Margo said loudly from behind them, terrifying the shit out of Q as she walked past them and moved to catch up with Eliot. She probably shouldn’t get this much satisfaction out of messing with Eliot’s latest conquests, but she couldn’t help herself.

“R-right, sorry,” Quentin said, shooting a look back over at Jules before he sped up, trying not to trip over his own shoes in the process.

-

Right away, Eliot and Margo made an effort to loop Quentin into their plans. They invited him to parties they hosted, found ways to bring him into their off-campus adventures, and seemed to appear nearby whenever he thought he would have a quiet afternoon to himself. And against all odds, Quentin actually enjoyed the attention.

Until this point in his life, Q had often felt like he was on the outside looking in. With the exception of Julia, he worried that his friends and acquaintances never actually wanted him around. Throughout high school and even in undergrad, he found himself hanging out with groups of kids that gradually phased him out and hoped he wouldn’t notice. And while it did hurt his feelings, he’d tricked himself into thinking that he enjoyed the quiet in order to make the pain a bit easier to bear. He retreated into his favorite books and pushed back the prodding thought in the back of his mind that there was a reason nobody wanted him around.

Fitting in wasn’t something Quentin did very well, but then he met Eliot. And when Eliot Waugh decides that someone is worth having around, he proves it to them - and to everyone else.

“QUENTIN!” Eliot called from across the lawn, hot-footing his way over to the blanket where Q was reading a well-worn copy of Fillory and Further Book 3 in the sunshine. Quentin looked up, only slightly startled since this wasn’t an uncommon occurrence, and sent a closed-mouth smile Eliot’s way.

_Fuck_ , those dimples. Luckily, Eliot had experience with holding it together around people he was hopelessly attracted to. Growing up queer in rural Indiana gave him plenty of practice.

“Bambi and I figured out how to enchant a muggle into bringing us delivery for dinner tonight and we need your help casting the glamour,” Eliot said as he sat down on the blanket across from Q, then took a moment to catch his breath after the run across campus.

Quentin paused for a second, a bit flabbergasted, then said, “...What?”

“Well, we can’t very well have them thinking they’ve stumbled into a magical grad school so we figured we could put them into a trance that makes the cottage look like an apartment building in Queens. Bambi is working on her accent right now,” Eliot stated as if this were a completely normal Thursday night plan.

“Sorry, erm,” Quentin said, closing his eyes for a second and squeezing the bridge of his nose, trying again to make words happen. “I meant, why me? I’m terrible at casting, I would almost certainly mess things up and get us all expelled for bringing a non-magician onto the campus. Surely Julia would be better at this, or maybe Alice? I can ask them for you if you want -” he spoke quicker and quicker with every self-deprecating word that spilled out of his mouth until he found himself babbling incoherently, looking straight down at the blanket and letting his long hair fall into his face.

Eliot reached over and gently swiped Q’s soft brown locks to the side, tucking them behind his ear and tilting his own head down a bit so he could try and look into Quentin’s eyes. He spoke softer this time, peeling back the layers of showmanship that he worked so hard to build up. “Whoa, whoa - that was a lot, I’m not going to unpack that right now, but let me rephrase that,” he said, squeezing Quentin’s shoulder once he had successfully pushed back his hair. “I’m inviting you because I like having you around. You are welcome to help with the casting if you want to, but really, you could just lay on the couch and look pretty and you would 100% be just as useful doing that. And I’m betting that you haven’t had good takeout in a while.”

Quentin was blushing furiously, but he found some courage and looked up at the person who almost certainly had become his actual friend these last few weeks. The person who actually _did_ want him around. He kept waiting to mess it up, to say the wrong thing, to slowly notice that he wasn’t being invited along anymore.

But putting his insecurities aside, Q took a breath and said, “Okay. I’ll be there.”

-

Granted, even though Quentin felt honored to be included, he occasionally spent these plans with the Physical Kids feeling so embarrassed that he tried to disappear into his sweater. This was one of those nights.

“Come on, Coldwater. If you’re going to convince me that you’re not a virgin, you’re going to have to provide details,” Margo leaned back into the couch, raising her eyebrows.

Quentin, who was currently struggling to sit in his chair, had a few drinks in him (courtesy of Eliot, of course) and so instead of totally shutting down, he found himself getting more defensive than usual.

“How do I even, where can I start, I’m _not_ a virgin, Margo,” Quentin pressed back, unable to give her the full story she was looking for because honestly, it wasn’t worth telling. And because Eliot was giving him this _look_ , like he genuinely wanted to know about the intimacies of his sex life.

Eventually, Eliot piped up. “How about we ask you a series of ten yes or no questions - anonymous enough, you won’t have to say any dirty words, and you get to pass on one of them, your choice. Good?”

Quentin let out the world’s biggest breath. He paused for a second, considered the rules, then groaned, “Fine.”

Margo let out a squeal, clapped her hands, then took a minute to consider her questions. While he waited, Quentin buried his face in his hands because looking at people suddenly became extremely difficult.

“Was your first time in college?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“Did you have sex more than once?”

“Yes.”

“With more than one person?”

“Yes.”

“With more than one gender?” Eliot nudged his way in between Margo’s barrage of questions to contribute the one thing he’d been wondering most about his crush.

Quentin swallowed the lump that had suddenly formed in his throat. “Yes,” he practically squeaked.

“CALLED IT,” Margo yelled, fist-pumping the air before Eliot shot her a look. “What? Look at the way he’s sitting.”

Quentin had one foot tucked underneath him and the other leg was somehow propped up on the arm of his own chair. He slowly shifted both legs back onto the floor like a puppy with its tail between its legs and hoped they wouldn’t notice.

Margo chose to ignore this and continued asking her list of questions.

“Have you had sex in public?”

“No.”

“Ever got caught in the act?”

“Yes.”

“Ever had a threesome?”

“No.”

At that answer, Margo looked back over at Eliot. It was pretty common knowledge that the pair would sometimes team up in bringing a third person into bed with them, and Quentin had tried his best to hide that he was at least a little bit jealous whenever he saw someone heading upstairs with them.

Eliot pretended not to see Margo’s pointed glance for now and took the opportunity to ask another question before they were all gone. “Have you ever had an orgasm so good that you forgot your own name?”

Quentin was already flushing a warm, bright pink, but now he was fully convinced that he might’ve caught on fire. He considered passing this one, but after some quick math, determined that he wasn’t willing to head into the final two questions without the opportunity to skip one of them. So he took another breath and admitted, “No.”

Eliot made a mental note to revisit that one when Bambi wasn’t around.

Margo carefully considered her last few chances to ask Quentin sex questions, briefly checked with Eliot (who gestured that they were all hers), then let a mischievous smile creep across her face.

“Have you had sex at Brakebills yet?”

“No.”

“Have you imagined having sex with anyone at Brakebills?”

Quentin swallowed and tried to ignore the burning feeling deep in his stomach.

“Pass.” 


	2. A Bit of a Mystery

Later that night, Eliot and Quentin moved to sit in the chairs in front of the fire. Margo had decided about twenty minutes ago that it was time to turn in, but not before making a pointed comment about giving her boys some alone-time. Quentin had abandoned his last drink a while ago (it sat half finished on the table next to him) and Eliot still had an empty glass in his hand as he stared into the fire. He wasn’t about to get up to refill it, at least not while he was enjoying some uninterrupted late-night conversation with Q. 

“Were you okay with tonight? I know Bambi likes to push,” Eliot asked. Secretly, he was pretty grateful when Margo took the offensive in helping to get him what he wanted, but he legitimately did not want to risk losing this one as a friend if her games went too far. 

Quentin shrugged and looked down. “I guess. It maybe wasn’t my top choice of conversation,” he said. 

“At all, or just with her?” Eliot pried a bit, testing to see if this was too much. 

“I... don’t know?” Q responded, a teeny trademark squeak making its way into the end of the phrase. 

Eliot took a beat. “Would it be... something you’d prefer to talk about with just me?” he asked very gently. 

Q’s heart started racing. _Yes_ , goddammit, say _yes_. “I guess it... depends exactly _what_ you wanted to talk about.” 

El smiled. “You’re a bit of a mystery, Q. As much as I like that, I’d also like to get to know you better. Are you just really private about sex or are you embarrassed about something?” 

Surprisingly, Quentin’s heart rate slowed down a little. Apparently, his body might actually let him talk about this. Eliot somehow had the power to get him completely worked up _and_ totally calmed down. 

“They’re just, not really stories worth telling. I’ve been with a few people, but they rarely wanted to stick around after. Sometimes during. It’s,” Quentin paused for a second, trying to figure out what he wanted to say. 

“It’s not that I’m not _good_ at it,” _oh God Q, backtrack, backtrack_ , “Just, um, maybe they weren’t the right people. I tend to fall really hard for one person at a time, and my brain gets totally overwhelmed and makes it practically impossible for me to say or do the right things around them, so the people I’ve slept with - they were just kind of around and seemed interested, I guess.” 

“There’s truly nothing wrong with that,” Eliot said, reaching over and taking Quentin’s hand. He just _did_ that, like it was the most normal thing in the world. “Have you ever wondered what it would be like to fuck someone you have really intense feelings for?” 

Quentin was heading steadily back to the danger zone, feeling Eliot’s soft hand wrapped around his. His head felt fuzzy and his chest was so warm, but he did _not_ want to let that ruin the moment. 

“ _God_ yes,” Q found the courage to say even though his ears and cheeks were burning. Maybe if he hid the fact that he was talking to the exact person he pretty desperately wanted to fuck, he could get through the conversation without completely shutting down. “But it just seems like I always ruin it. I get too excited, I say the wrong things, sometimes I can’t - say - anything at all.” 

“Q, a little enthusiasm in the bedroom can be good,” Eliot said. “Speaking from experience, when someone _really_ wants you - and you can feel that, there’s nothing like it. Except maybe _really_ wanting them back.” 

“If you can even get to that point without completely embarrassing yourself,” Quentin added. “How do you even ask?” 

The corner of Eliot’s mouth twitched up. “Hey, wanna fuck?” 

Quentin felt like he was absolutely going to vomit. Was he _asking_? Because Q couldn’t come up with any other way to respond, he burst out into a fit of laughter. 

Eliot grinned, raising his eyebrows and letting go of Q’s hand, taking the opportunity to readjust the way he was sitting. “It’s good, isn’t it? Works like a charm.” Part of him had hoped it would’ve worked _this_ time, but he wasn’t surprised that Q brushed it away when the question was posed so quickly. All in good time. 

“But aren’t you worried they’ll just… say no?” Quentin asked.

“Oh, I’ve been turned down dozens of times. When you grow up - where I did,” Eliot reeled it back in, not quite ready to share that part of himself yet, “- It happens a lot. All of the practice certainly helps rejection hurt less."

“Who would say no to you?” Quentin asked quietly, wondering if he was being too obvious but letting the question hang in the air between them anyway. 

“Plenty of people, but the point is, it doesn’t matter. Q, if someone doesn’t care about you, doesn’t want you at least on some level, the sex is probably going to be incredibly weird and not in a good way. I mean, I can make it work as long as they’re somewhat game for some action, but the point is - I’d rather walk away from ten noes if number eleven is a very enthusiastic yes,” Eliot said, swishing his glass around in his hand. The ice was starting to melt. 

“But what if you don’t just want to sleep with them - what if you want a relationship? What if you want them to stick around in the morning, to make you breakfast and sit around all day and just talk. And take them on dates and learn everything about them and be there for them when they need you most?” Quentin asked, finding it easier to form words the longer he talked to Eliot. His friend was right - practice _does_ help. 

Eliot understood exactly how that felt. Because deep down, no matter how easy he made it seem, he _couldn't_  simply move on to the next person if Quentin didn’t want him back. _That’s_ why he hadn’t made a more explicit move, _that’s_ why he didn’t make it clear that he really was asking. He wasn’t ready to be rejected by Quentin Coldwater, so Eliot knew that he needed to wait. 

However, he would not let that fear get in the way of letting him extend another piece of bait, just in case Quentin might finally take it. Instead of answering the question, he simply stated, “You are pretty fucking cute, Coldwater."

Quentin shrugged that one off as well. He heard it, of course, and it set off a huge smile that he couldn’t hide and another round of butterflies in his stomach. But that insecure voice in his head told him that Eliot _couldn’t_ have meant anything by it. That was just _Eliot_.

-

As time went on, Q continued to write off Eliot’s advances as just part of his personality. Eliot was clearly a very affectionate person who happened to be especially generous with his compliments. Quentin heard him fluffing up Margo’s ego constantly and he assumed there wasn’t anything romantic going on between them - _was_ there? 

Eliot had found himself wondering on more than one occasion whether Q would ever acknowledge the way Eliot’s affection made him feel. Every time he thought he'd accepted the fact that they would likely never be more than friends, Eliot would nudge him playfully when they were joking around and Q would practically melt in response. It was almost too adorable to handle, but Quentin would immediately move on as if it had never happened.  

The truth was, Q had absolutely zero game. He could imagine flirty responses all day - unfortunately, it was usually the day _following_ the opportunity to say them. In the moment, he was all mumbles and squeaking sounds. And when it came to finding the courage to touch back, well, let's just say that Q's eagerness and enthusiasm had betrayed him on numerous occasions in the past. He had learned pretty quickly to hold back the urge. 

For a while, it seemed like they would never get to a place where either could feel comfortable sharing how they felt about the other. 

But two weeks later, Quentin found himself in a bit of a predicament. 

-

Q was walking back to his dorm after class when he suddenly found himself on the receiving end of an unknown spell. It hit him right in the chest as he walked through a crowd of people, but he couldn't tell which direction it came from or whether it had reached him on purpose. 

The wind was knocked right out of him and as soon as that subsided, he was hit with a brief fizzing sensation, as if his veins were filled with seltzer. The crowd around him scattered in response, leaving Quentin alone with his wobbling knees. What _was_ that? 

Before Quentin was even sure what had happened, he felt someone grab him from behind. It took him a minute to figure out that it was Margo (who had been yelling, "YOU THINK YOU'RE FUNNY, FUCKERS?! AIM BETTER NEXT TIME."). She grabbed his arm and lifted it up over her shoulder so she could help him walk and started moving him across campus. 

"Hey bud, should we go to the infirmary or do you just want to rest at the cottage? Feel okay?" Margo asked, moving in closer so the others wouldn’t hear her. Did she actually care about him? 

Q felt relatively normal now that the initial blast had subsided, but as soon as he opened his mouth to tell Margo that, the nature of the spell made itself known. "You're seriously beautiful but _God_ , I'm scared of you," Quentin said, immediately covering his mouth with his hand. 

Margo stopped moving and raised one eyebrow, turning to look Quentin in the eye. "Come again?” 

He was scrambling, trying not to let that happen again when he suddenly blurted out, “You terrify me but for some reason I really want you to think that I’m actually good at sex!"

The realization that Quentin was unintentionally airing his darkest secrets hit Margo like a ton of bricks. “Well, _shit_."

 


	3. The Truth Spell

The two burst through the door of the Physical Kids' Cottage in quite a fuss. Margo was still holding Q up but she did not look happy about it, since she'd just spent the walk across campus getting an earful of _nearly_ every horrible or embarrassing thing Quentin had ever tried to hide from her. 

Julia happened to be visiting the cottage that day and as soon as she saw the look on Quentin's face, she rushed over to see what was wrong. A few other students looked up from their seats. 

"Veritaserum over here got hit by a truth spell from a bunch of dumbasses and now he's spewing his shittiest secrets. You've been warned," Margo said to Julia once she spotted her, moving away from the door and transferring Q's arm to Julia's shoulder. 

Immediately, Julia realized that Eliot was home and that Q probably wouldn't want him to be around for this. "Oh um, maybe that's not such a good idea. Why don't we just -" 

Quentin looked absolutely terrified as he looked down at his childhood best friend. "Jules, I had the most awful crush on you growing up. I was so _fucking_ jealous of James," he said as she started leading him back towards the door. 

Julia squeezed her eyes shut, pausing for just a second to try and move on from that. But just as she reminded herself how important it was to get him out of there, she heard someone coming downstairs. 

Of course, it was Eliot, who had heard the kerfuffle and wouldn't miss it for the world.  "What'd I miss, Bambi?" Eliot asked, hopping down the last few steps. 

Q immediately started flailing as soon as he saw Eliot, as if his attempts to suppress the thoughts fighting to escape his lips would suddenly start working. They didn't. 

"YOU'RE A FUCKING SEX GOD," Quentin practically yelled. It appeared that the harder he tried to hold back a secret, the louder it came out.  _Great._  

"Tell me something I don't know," Eliot made his best runway model pout and twirled around, trying to play it cool so he could hide how completely overjoyed he was to hear that. 

"- And I am _ridiculously_ attracted to you," Quentin blurted out sadly. He looked completely broken as soon as it left his mouth. 

The smile immediately drained from Eliot's face. He could practically see Q's heart shattering and he immediately rushed over to help. This was certainly not as much fun as he thought it would be. 

"Oh Q, let's get you somewhere safe while you ride this out," he said under his breath, wrapping Quentin’s other arm around himself so he could help Julia get the poor guy upstairs. "Back away bitches, show's over," he called to the little crowd of onlookers that had gathered around. 

"Aghh God, I never know what to do with myself when you touch me. It feels so fucking good. Why can't you be touching me all the time?" Quentin asked as they climbed up to the second floor.

"I honestly don't know," Eliot deadpanned to himself, attempting to move more quickly to avoid letting this drag on for longer than necessary. 

As they reached the hallway at the top of the stairs, Quentin said, "I always wondered what it would be like to come up here with you and Margo. I've noticed that you bring people home together - why haven't you asked me? Is it because I'm not experienced enough? Is it because you don’t like me?" 

Eliot swallowed. This wasn't fair. He made a quick turn into a room on the left, leaving Julia in the hallway. He carefully directed Q over to the bed and helped him sit down on the edge of it. "You can have my room as long as you need it but I’m just going to leave you to it so you don’t spill any more beans," Eliot said, backing away. 

Quentin looked like he was in absolute pain, but he nodded with the sweetest, most earnest puppy eyes in an attempt to communicate how grateful he was for the privacy. That is, before he called out, "You have really nice hands!" as Eliot walked out of the room and shut the door. 

-

Eliot closed his eyes and let out a deep breath as he leaned his back against the other side of the closed door. Sliding slowly down to the floor, Eliot pulled his knees close to him. It felt like he had been kicked in the stomach. He finally knew exactly how Quentin felt about him and even though it was better than he ever could’ve hoped, the fact that it wasn’t shared on Q’s terms made him feel _incredibly_ guilty. 

Julia was still standing silently in the hallway. She didn’t know Eliot very well, and while it was clear that he put a lot of effort into his appearance, she wasn’t sure what was hiding under all of the vests and fancy cocktails. But seeing how quickly he prioritized getting Q some well-deserved solitude, she decided that she could trust him. 

After she gave him a minute to breathe, she gently piped up. “You okay?”

Eliot opened his eyes and looked over at her. He had forgotten for a moment that he wasn't alone up there. "I will be. Don't tell anyone you saw me like this," he said, bringing his hands up to cover his face. 

Julia took a breath, then started, "You care a lot -" 

"About what people think of me?" Eliot finished her sentence for her. 

"About _Quentin_ ," she corrected. "I saw your face back there." 

Eliot wasn't sure what to say. Not everyone took the time to see through the hard exterior he presented. "So do you," he said, deflecting. 

"He's a really good person. He cares about his friends more than anyone I've ever met. He would do literally anything for you if you let him. Don't take advantage of that," Julia was small, but she could conjure up quite an air of toughness when she needed to. 

"I'm not going to lie to you. I've hurt people. Sometimes on purpose. But that boy in there - I would kill for him," Eliot said quietly. "Seeing him like that, practically hearing his heart break because he was so afraid to tell me that he's attracted to me? I have no idea how to even begin to fix that, but I sure as hell am going to try." 

Before either of them could say much more, they heard Quentin call out from behind the closed door. “I can’t really hear you, but I think you might still be there and your room smells really nice!”

Eliot and Julia both laughed, simultaneously deciding that they needed to go back downstairs right away. “Not even the hallway is safe,” El quipped. 

-

Upon returning to the ground floor, they were glad to see that almost everyone had relocated (Margo had _strongly_ encouraged the others to find somewhere else to hang out today). Eliot was grateful for the quiet because he seriously needed a drink and some Bambi time. 

“I’m gonna go. Let me know if Q needs me,” Julia said, picking up the books she had left in the living room. 

"Will do," El said, holding the front door open for her as she walked out. 

Eliot shut the door and headed immediately to the bar, looking for something to quiet the rush of questions flooding his head. What was this going to do to Quentin? Would he emerge from this gracefully, just accepting that everyone knew his secrets, or would he start avoiding his friends entirely to keep from ever having to face them? Would he even want to _talk_ to Eliot again? 

“Well that wasn’t anywhere near as hilarious as I was expecting,” Margo said, noticing that Eliot had returned and joining him at the bar. “What are you gonna do about... all of that new information?” 

“Nothing,” Eliot said, pressing a shaker to the edge of his glass and filling it up to the top. 

“Seriously, El?” 

“Kid clenches into next week when he’s embarrassed. You know that’s not gonna go well unless he’s 100% on board,” Eliot’s voice had settled at a low monotone. His eyes stayed focused on the cocktail he was making and when he’d finished, he picked it up and raised it to his lips, closing his eyes as he downed at least half of it. 

Margo sighed, leaning over the bar, “The Eliot I know would’ve been all over this. Since when are you hurt if someone doesn’t want to fuck you? You’ve always just muttered ‘ _his loss_ ’ and moved on to the next in line.”

“He’s _different_ , Bambi. And I actually do want him around; I don’t _want_ to terrify the pants off of him,” he responded, still in hushed tones to avoid sharing that with any remaining eavesdroppers. 

Margo leaned back again, raising an eyebrow. “Well, well, well. Wasn’t sure I’d ever hear you say _that,_ ” she said, quite honestly intrigued. 

“I can think of _much_ better ways to quickly remove a pair of trousers, Bambi.” 

-

Quentin opened his eyes to total darkness. For a minute, he couldn’t remember where he was and he sat up to take in his surroundings. He was wrapped up in a silk sheet and surrounded by soft pillows on one of the most comfortable beds he’d ever slept on. _Eliot’s bed_ , he recalled, as that afternoon’s events came flooding back. 

Had the spell worn off by now? It had to be the middle of the night. He didn’t feel the urge to air any deep, dark secrets but just in case, he decided to try and speak some obvious lies to test the theory. 

“I don’t actually like Taylor Swift all that much - ” he called out into the lonely silence. Nothing happened. 

Maybe he’ll try again for good measure. “I’m really good at sports!” he practically taunted. So far so good. 

“Definitely not bisexual at all!” He said a bit louder, gaining his confidence back as he got up from the bed and walked across the room. 

“Maybe they'll all forget this ever happened,” he sighed; another obvious lie. Well, in that case, it was probably safe to emerge. Quentin had slept through dinner and he was starving. 

Quietly, he turned the doorknob, pulled the door towards him, and poked his head out into the hallway. All clear. Even though the worst of the spell appeared to be over, he didn’t particularly want to encounter another human for a while. Taking a breath and working up some courage, Q hesitantly left the safety of Eliot’s room and padded down the stairs. 

But just as he pressed his bare feet onto the last few steps and started to turn the corner to the dining room, he heard someone stirring in the living room and - of course - Eliot cleared his throat. Quentin spun around, able to see just well enough in the dark to know that El was awake, lying on the couch and wrapped in a Brakebills blanket. His clothes were neatly folded on the coffee table next to him. ‘ _Great_ ,’ Quentin thought. ‘ _You had to be naked_.’

“Shit, what are you doing here?” Quentin asked, caught off guard and not really sure what else to say. 

“The warm greeting everyone dreams of waking up to!” Eliot called out sarcastically, his voice still a little raspy. “I gave you my bed, remember?” 

Quentin immediately felt guilty. “El, I’m sorry,” he said quietly. 

After a bit of a pause, Eliot sat up. Now Quentin could see that he definitely wasn’t wearing a shirt. El looked over at Q’s slouching form in the darkness and took a breath before he began the monologue that had been running through his mind all night.

“Look, I’m not gonna push you to talk about what you said earlier. That’s the kind of thing you shouldn’t be forced to tell anyone and I can pretend to forget it if that’s what you want. But I just wanted you to know that the reason why I haven’t made a move on you is not that I don’t like you or I’m not interested in you. Quite the opposite. You’re a total catch, Coldwater. And if you want to be with me, in any capacity, all you have to do is ask,” Eliot said so gently and carefully. 

Quentin’s cheeks burned and he quite honestly had to try to hold back the smile that was fighting to stretch across his face. He was actually _shaking_. Eliot covered himself in carefully curated layers, but he was more than willing to peel them back if it could help his friends feel less vulnerable. Quentin loved this about him. 

‘ _Oh, right, I should say something back_ ,’ Q realized after the two sat there in silence for a few seconds. “You uh, I - agh,” Quentin struggled to say something, but he figured out too late that he wasn’t actually sure what that something would be. Well, that wasn’t terribly successful. The total embarrassment still hadn’t dissipated and Eliot’s confession had thrown him for a loop. Quentin had already fully accepted the possibility that Eliot would want nothing to do with him once he found out that Q was attracted to him. He always expected the worst. 

El had been holding his breath from the minute he let his feelings about Q out into the air, heart absolutely pounding against his chest. While Eliot certainly gave the illusion of calm confidence, he couldn’t ignore the rush of adrenaline that came along with sharing an admission quite so vulnerable. But since the continued silence clearly dictated that Quentin _wasn’t_ going to rush across the cottage to jump into Eliot’s lap and have his way with him ( _a guy can dream, can’t he?_ ), Eliot began to cover his tracks and end the conversation. For now, at least. 

“Anyway, when I offered you my bed, I meant it for the whole night. Feel free to go back up, I’m fine here and I won’t wake you if you want to sleep in tomorrow morning. God knows I’ve slept in worse places and nobody will be able to tell,” Eliot changed the subject and tried to wrap things up. 

Quentin nodded, “Um, okay. Thanks. Night, El,” and ducked into the kitchen without waiting for a response, grabbing the first edible thing he could find. _A banana? Really?_

When he reached the stairs again with his regrettably phallic-looking snack, Q bravely peeked back at the couch. Eliot had laid back down, attempting to go back to sleep. And as Quentin padded back up the stairs to Eliot’s bedroom, the full realization of El’s words washed over him. That familiar fluttery warmth coursed through his whole body as he tucked himself back into Eliot’s bed, unfortunately alone. For the first time in hours, surrounded by the comforting smell of Eliot, Quentin Coldwater finally let himself relax. 


	4. Giving Him Space

The next morning, Eliot kept his promise. He knew that he needed to give Quentin the space to be honest with him on his own terms and he fully intended to pretend as if the last 24 hours never happened. 

Eliot woke up before anyone else, took a shower, and changed into the extra set of clean clothes he had stashed in a secret hiding spot in the living room. All evidence of his makeshift bed on the couch had vanished. Then, of course, he started cooking a full gourmet breakfast because that’s what he would want to wake up to after a pretty upsetting encounter with a truth spell. 

The rest of the Physical Kids eventually joined him and were halfway through the meal by the time Quentin woke up. Q had fully intended to run straight downstairs and right out the front door before anyone realized he was gone, but he bumped into the railing by accident and quietly said, “Ow.” 

Eliot heard that and looked up, seeing a nervous Q hovering at the top of the staircase, holding his shoes in one hand. El simply pulled out the chair he’d left empty right next to him and called up, “Plenty of eggs and bacon left if you’re hungry.” 

Taking in a deep breath, Quentin walked downstairs. He didn’t want to be rude, and breakfast _did_ smell fantastic. So he left his shoes by the door, joined them at the table, and slid into the chair El had saved for him. 

Eliot wanted to talk to him, to playfully nudge his arm and make a joke about the fact that Quentin was still wearing the same clothes he had on yesterday. But he decided against it and freshly garnished a Bloody Mary with a celery stalk and a pickle spear before he slid the glass over to where Quentin could reach it. He smiled when Quentin picked it up and took a sip. 

Surprisingly to Q, breakfast conversation was totally normal and not at all related to the truth spell. At least, until Quentin finally found the courage to say something out loud. “Breakfast is really good, thanks El.” 

“One might say he’s a Fucking BREAKFAST God, am I right?” Josh Hoberman joked. Eliot immediately looked up, shooting the most intense death glare in Josh’s direction until he got the hint and went back to eating. 

Quentin still hadn’t looked up from his plate - he was refusing to make eye contact with anyone so he had totally missed the fact that Eliot was intensely defending him with his eyes. Nonetheless, he noticed that the subject changed very quickly and Q was incredibly grateful for that. 

Eliot reached over to reassuringly squeeze Quentin’s thigh as if to say, _‘Don’t worry, I’ve got your back’_ , but stopped in midair, realizing that maybe that would be too much. Thankfully, Q didn’t seem to notice as Eliot returned his hand to his own lap, but Margo (who was sitting on the other side of Eliot) did. She was starting to really worry about El. 

-

When everyone had finished breakfast, Quentin helped to bring the dishes into the kitchen and then quietly slipped out the front door without saying goodbye. He made a break for it, wondering if he had actually succeeded when -

“Hey, Q?” Margo called out to him as he tried to sneak away, pulling on one of his shoes while he hopped across the grass. 

Quentin turned back around once both of his shoes were on, seeing that Margo was standing in the doorway. “Yeah?” he asked. 

“We’re having a party here tonight. We’d really like for you to be there,” she said, sounding less pushy than usual. Typically, Q got the feeling that their invitations were mandatory. 

Quentin nodded, calling out, “Okay. Thanks, Margo,” then he continued on his way, really hoping that he wouldn’t run into anyone else who had overheard the side effects of the truth spell. 

“Hey Q!” Julia said, popping up from where she sat on a bench not terribly far from the cottage. That didn’t take long at all. 

Quentin jumped slightly, not expecting to be engaged in conversation again so quickly, then sighed when he realized it was her. “Jules, I -”

“Are you going to that party?” Julia interrupted, pointing to the door where Margo had been. 

“I... what?” Q asked, totally expecting her to launch into something about the truly awful things he’d revealed to her the day before. 

The corners of Julia’s mouth turned up a bit. “You should go. You deserve a fun night after... after what happened,” she said. 

“Oh, uh, yeah. About that -”

“You don’t have to say anything, Q. It wasn’t your fault,” she said, trying to give Quentin the opportunity to forget it ever happened. 

“Jules, I’m sorry. I never meant for you to know - I had fully accepted that you and I weren’t going to happen,” he said quickly before she had a chance to stop him again. “I never wanted to lose you and I didn’t want things to change between us. Your friendship means a lot to me, Jules.”

Julia smiled. She was relieved to hear that. 

“Honestly, it hasn’t been on my mind much since we got to Brakebills. This place makes it pretty easy to move on,” he said. 

“To move on to... Eliot?” she asked, letting a full-on grin take over her face. 

Quentin let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding and laughed a little, looking down at the ground. “I don’t know, I can’t stop thinking about him,” he said. For the first time in a while, he felt _happy_. 

“He let you have his _bed_ , Q. And he was so worried about you after,” she said excitedly as they started to walk across campus together. 

“The guy could have anyone he wanted. Why would he want _me_?” Quentin said, not so much looking for an answer as he was managing his own expectations out loud.

“Because you’re the best. You’re all heart, Q. You’re adorable and brilliant. Why _wouldn’t_ he?” she asked. 

Quentin’s face turned bright red and he suddenly couldn’t keep from smiling. “I ran into him last night when I tried to sneak downstairs after the spell wore off. He said I was a catch.” 

Julia’s mouth dropped open. “Q!” she yelled excitedly, playfully smacking him on the arm.  She was thrilled for Quentin _and_ about the fact that he was openly sharing this with her. He had been a part of her life for so long that the thought of possibly losing him over a spilled secret had kept her up all night. 

“He backed off right away; I think he’s waiting to see if I’m ready before pushing any further,” Quentin added. 

“Well, are you going to make a move? At the party tonight?”

Q looked pretty frazzled as he tried to figure out how to answer that question. “Aagh, I don’t know. I’m not good at this! He usually makes it so easy to talk to him but what if I freaked him out? Yesterday was super awkward,” he groaned. 

“Quentin. He spelled it out for you. He’s hosting a party tonight and Margo basically implied that he really wants you to be there. This is your chance to get back in there on your own terms!” she said. 

Q was speechless. The thought of walking in there and being intentionally vulnerable in front of Eliot, whose opinion he valued so intensely, frankly terrified him. It wasn’t just that Quentin was worried that it might not work out; he was physically uncomfortable just thinking about it. 

His heart was pounding again and those damn butterflies went back to racing around his stomach. If he felt this worked up when he was still hours away from possibly deciding whether to make a move on Eliot, how would he feel when it finally came time to do something about it? 

Then, Q thought about what Eliot had said. He hadn’t really _stopped_ thinking about it, to be honest. He owed it to himself to give it a chance. 

“Okay. I’ll go to the party, at least,” he decided. 

Julia tried to play it cool for Quentin’s sake. 

-

And there he was, hours later, sitting alone at the party and avoiding conversation at all costs. Jules had come along for moral support, but she left to go to the bathroom and got distracted on the way back. 

“Is he going to sit there all goddamned night?” Margo asked, peeking around the bar. 

Eliot, who was mixing drinks, seemed totally calm about the situation. “Probably,” he said before he scooped up his latest creation and headed straight over to the corner where Quentin was practically shaking in his boots and looking like a ball of anxiety personified. 

When Quentin noticed that Eliot was coming right towards him, he became extremely startled. But then, El smoothly bent down to hand him the cocktail and said, “Hey, you looked like you could use this.” 

“Oh! Thanks,” he said, reaching out for the drink with a precariously shaky arm. Eliot tried not to laugh and placed the glass in his hand, holding it there until he was convinced that Quentin was not going to drop it. El fucking _loved_ this disaster human. 

Then, Eliot quickly turned around and went back across the room without any implication that Quentin should follow. Q realized that he _did_ want Eliot to invite him over, but he was also pretty relieved that his crush was legitimately giving him the space and agency to initiate that conversation himself. And he was also very grateful for the liquid courage. 

Eliot spotted Margo shooing some first-years away from a couch across the cottage and joined her there. He cuddled up, laying his head in her lap. Ever since he’d started making an effort to _not_ touch Quentin, Eliot had been craving physical contact and Margo was more than happy to oblige. 

“El, sweetie, you are more far gone than I thought,” she said as she rubbed his shoulder. “Q _clearly_ wants to jump your bones. He just needs a push - _look_ at him!” 

Quentin was trying so hard to scan the room for Eliot without getting caught. When he finally spotted them, both staring straight at him, he suddenly rushed to take a drink and accidentally splashed himself in the face. _Smooth._

“The kid went through something pretty traumatic yesterday. He told stuff to Julia that he’d probably kept secret since they were kids. No one should be able to use that against him,” Eliot said, looking back up at Margo who was running her fingers through his hair. 

“Does he know the ball’s in his court?” 

“He came downstairs late last night and I told him as much,” Eliot said. 

Margo paused for a minute, considering the situation. “I’m proud of you, El. But for your sake, I hope he gets the courage soon because I have to say, it’s not looking good.” 

When she checked back over in Q’s direction, he looked like he was about to explode; bouncing his legs on the ground, practically inhaling the cocktail that Eliot had given him, staring out the window like the saddest fucking golden retriever. Her lip-reading was a little rusty, but she could've sworn that he was nervously asking himself, "Where the fuck is Julia?" A girl to his left turned around to face him and he started shaking his head as he said, "No no, sorry, different Julia." 

This was _painful_. 

"Okay, what are the rules here?" Margo asked Eliot. "You're giving him space to decide when he's ready but do _I_ have to follow them or can I go over there and move things along already?" 

Eliot sighed. “Bambi, he’s already nearly died of embarrassment in this house at least twice in recent history." 

Margo considered this, then lifted up Eliot's head and got up from the couch. "Okay, I won't," she said before she walked away. Eliot sat up quickly and is honestly surprised to see that she hadn't gone straight for Quentin; instead, she veered around to the kitchen. 

Quentin immediately noticed that Eliot was _finally_ alone. _His_ Julia returned just in time for Q to stand up and say, "Oh God, Margo left. If I don't go now -"

"Go go go! You've got this!" Julia quietly cheered him on, stepping to the side so he could get past her. 

Quentin downed the remainder of his drink and started walking across the house. Eliot saw him coming and stood up quickly. He realized that this move wasn't very suave of him, but fuck it - he had been _waiting_ for this. 

"Hey Eliot, can I have another-" Some other guy got to him first, but Eliot said, "Nope, keep walking," and gently pushed him on the chest, not once looking away from the very cute super nerd heading his way. 

Once Quentin reached Eliot, a bit relieved that he wouldn't have to fight for his attention, he paused for a moment, trying to figure out where to start. Then, he held up the empty glass in his hand and said, "Thanks for the drink!" 

"That's what I'm here for," El said, trying to pretend that this wasn't as big of a deal as he knew it was. 

Q let out a deep breath. He could barely hear himself speak, his heart was beating so loudly in his ears. Then he very quickly asked, "Do you want to maybe -"

"Anything," Eliot said. Quentin turned bright red and Eliot realized his mistake. "I'm done now, go ahead -"

Coming on stronger now, Quentin continued, "Do you want to step outside... with me."

And Eliot said, "Absolutely."


	5. A Grand Romantic Gesture

Quentin led the way out of the front door of the Physical Kids Cottage, grateful to find they had the porch to themselves. He shot a quick glance to the big window in the living room where Julia was waiting for the signal and then, Q gave her a pointed nod. 

She quietly opened a section of the window and immediately started casting, intricately weaving her fingers together then flicking her fingertips outwards before repeating the pattern again and again. Each time, a few bright, tiny balls of light flew out into the night air. 

Margo headed over to the window seat with the initial intention to spy on the boys, but as soon as she noticed what was happening, she gasped and broke into a run. "Is this a grand romantic gesture?! Eliot is gonna lose his shit!" she whispered to Julia excitedly. 

"Then come here and help me," Julia muttered through gritted teeth as she hurriedly continued the tuts. 

Eliot followed Q outside and looked up at the sky to find dozens of magical floating lights glittering above them. They softly hovered like strings of fairy lights in the wind, but with the occasional flicker of fireflies. He looked around, let out a laugh, then looked down at Quentin’s face, which was practically glowing in the dim light. 

"Well aren’t you full of surprises,” Eliot said, truly flabbergasted. El had assumed that this would, at best, involve Q nervously letting him know that it was okay to move forward again. He did not expect what appeared to be a full-on proposal. 

Quentin smiled, feeling very grateful for Julia’s help in setting the mood. “So um, hi,” he started. 

“Hello,” Eliot said back, stepping a bit closer. 

Taking a deep breath and filling his lungs with fresh, cool air, Q tried to ignore how much his hands were shaking. “I really like you, El,” he said, heart racing. “And I wanted you to know that.” 

Now it was Eliot’s turn to feel warm. This is what he’d hoped would happen, maybe not in the way it usually did but there wasn’t anything _usual_ about his feelings for Quentin. Eliot had always been so guarded, rarely letting anyone get too close. And without even trying, Quentin somehow managed to get through. 

“I like you too, Q,” Eliot said. Understatement of the century. He may have hid it well, but El had fallen _hard_. 

They stood there like that for a minute. ... _Was that it?_

Eliot decided that this qualified as making a move, at least for Quentin, so he thought he’d pitch in. “You know, I knew the moment I met you that we would be friends,” Eliot said. 

Q laughed, partly from the relief of having the pressure taken off of him for a minute. “Oh really? What about me climbing through a bush and scrambling across a lawn, mouth agape, could’ve delivered that realization?” 

“We can get to your mouth later,” Eliot couldn’t resist letting that one slip out, but he moved on from it quickly because he was supposed to be behaving himself, “I usually feel the need to impress everyone. I build up a wall because I don’t want to risk letting the wrong people see what’s behind it. Somehow, I knew right away that I didn’t have to do that with you and that doesn’t happen to me often.” 

This was the best thing Eliot could’ve said in that moment because it put Quentin at ease. It reminded him that this was his friend, not some intimidatingly attractive stranger. Last night, Eliot had proven that he truly cared about him. Now he knew that El had cared about him all along. 

Now, Quentin could calm down enough to remember not just _that_ he liked Eliot, but _why_ he liked Eliot. He liked how effortlessly clever and funny he was. He liked the way El so easily included him in their plans from the minute they’d met, without any hesitation. He _really_ liked to look at him. And when Eliot touched him, the world around them faded away. 

Maybe, just maybe, if he found the courage to ask, Eliot would touch him right now. Quentin felt a pleasant burn in the pit of his stomach at the thought. 

“Hey, um... about what you said last night. I... uh, do you think -“ Q stopped and bit his lip. He realized that he didn’t even know precisely what he was asking Eliot for - why hadn’t he thought to figure this out before opened his goddamned mouth? 

Eliot walked up until he was close enough to feel the warmth of Quentin’s body in the cool night air. “Here, why don’t we narrow this down together. Can I touch you?” El asked in that gentle tone he often found himself using with Quentin. 

Q thought for a moment, surprised by how simple the question seemed. Maybe they could take this a step at a time. “Could you maybe just hold me for a minute?” Quentin asked, a tiny whimper of a request, as he started to reach his hands toward Eliot. 

A huge smile crept across Eliot’s face. He slipped himself between Q’s arms and slowly wrapped an arm around him, sliding it across his back. He let his fingers graze along the nape of Q’s neck, then touched down on his other shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. It felt warm and wonderful all along the points where they touched and Quentin was _definitely_ blushing. Eliot’s free hand reached for Q’s arm, rubbing it a little and tracing lines up and down it with his fingers as he looked down at his face. 

“Better?” El asked quietly. Quentin could feel Eliot’s warm breath on his cheek. Q nodded. 

Margo and Julia high fived back at the window seat, unable to hear exactly what was happening but very pleased to see that their boys were embracing. 

Getting an idea, Margo spun around and headed back into the crowd at the party. She set her sights on some asshole who was playing an unsolicited cover of “Wonderwall” for the eighth time that night and walked right up, yanking the acoustic guitar out of his hands. “I’m borrowing this,” she asserted, and nobody thought to question her. 

She brought the instrument back to the window and propped it up nearby, then began a complicated tut that encouraged the guitar to begin playing itself. Now _that’s_ how you set a mood. 

Quentin heard the music and he let out a tiny laugh. He concentrated on his breathing for a moment, making sure that he was actually exhaling before he pulled his arms tighter around Eliot’s middle. Eliot was much taller than Quentin, which made them fit together kind of perfectly like this. 

They held each other for a little while, keeping warm in the crisp night air. Then, Eliot spoke up. “So if we’re going to do anything about this, I’m gonna need something from you.” 

“Mmhmm?” Quentin asked gently, lifting his head from where it was resting on Eliot’s chest and looking up at him. 

“I need you to tell me what you want. I’ll do anything, stop anytime, scout’s honor,” Eliot said. “I just want to make sure that we’re on the same page here, so if you could open up that pretty mouth of yours and tell me exactly what you want from me, I’m yours.” 

Of course, Eliot asked for the one thing that Quentin has been consistently struggling with lately. When he felt anxious, his ability to express himself with words was typically the first thing to go. But the thought of being able to ask him for literally anything set his core on fire and sent a chain reaction of tingles up and down his arms and legs, so he knew he needed to find a way to grant Eliot’s request. 

As he positively vibrated with excitement, Q worked to catch some more of the words spinning around in his head so he could put arrange them in the correct order. 

Even though the volume wasn’t so much there, they were close enough that hopefully, it would be at least slightly audible when Quentin quietly spoke. "I want to go on to dates with you. I want to walk you home and stay up all night talking and make magic together. _El_ , I - I want to _be_ with you," he said, then very quickly added, " _Andalsomaybesex._ "

Eliot hadn't stopped smiling in what felt like ages. "Q -" his voice nearly cracked, he was _so_ smitten. 

"Wait, j-just... one more thing, um," Quentin said, grabbing hold of the conversation while he still had the guts, while his brain wasn't holding him back. "And right now -  _God fucking damn it,_  I just want to know what it feels like to kiss you."

Now it was Eliot’s turn to be absolutely blindsided by his body’s physical reaction to what Quentin had said. The ferociously heartfelt way Q delivered the request made Eliot feel like he was asking for something so much dirtier than a kiss. If even the most innocent requests from Quentin made him feel like this, El was done for. 

Going almost completely weak in the knees, Eliot bent down and pressed his mouth to Quentin’s slightly parted lips. And he could’ve sworn there were _fireworks_. 

Q’s stomach turned over as soon as he realized this was really happening and he couldn’t stop himself from making the sweetest soft, desperate noise. He had wanted this for so long. This was _everything_. Quentin grabbed hold of what he could and pulled on Eliot’s vest, trying to bring him in closer. 

Before they knew it, what had started as a beautifully gentle and slow kiss suddenly increased in intensity. Q stood up as tall as he could to press himself harder onto Eliot and he opened his mouth because he wanted so badly to taste him. 

El responded immediately to Q’s enthusiasm, inviting him in and sliding his hand up so he could cup the back of Quentin’s neck. It fit _perfectly_  there. 

They were both so wrapped up in the moment, hearts pounding in their chests, tasting each other tentatively, reveling in the way every movement felt. There was something about the wait it took to get here that made them both _so_  incredibly desperate to discover every detail about kissing one another. 

El kissed with the intention to study exactly what Quentin liked so he could quickly learn the best ways to please him. He noted every adorable whimper and shiver he coaxed out of Q, keeping them in mind for later. 

And Q kissed like he wanted to know every detail about Eliot and his mouth; paying careful attention to all of it because he was so excited to know and he never wanted to forget the way this felt. 

All night, Q had been finding ways to look down, look away, look at anything but Eliot, but when they finally pulled apart for air, Quentin found the courage to look right up into Eliot’s eyes. And when he finally did, Eliot practically _melted_. 

Q looked absolutely wrecked in the best way, cheeks flushed and lips wet and swollen with his hair sticking out in the back where Eliot had grabbed hold of him. He looked relieved and even surprised, like this was the last thing he expected to happen and he was so fucking _happy_ about it. 

Eliot reached up and brushed the backs of his fingers against Q’s cheek as he took in the expression on his face. “If you look this gorgeous after only kissing for a few minutes, Q, what the fuck are you going to look like when I...” he trailed off, not wanting to make Quentin uncomfortable. 

Q was clear on what Eliot meant, even without the rest of the sentence. “We’re just going to have to find out then, huh?” he said, nervous and shaky but with a tiny hint of sexy confidence, scratching the back of his head and scrunching up his forehead a little. 

“God, Q,” Eliot practically whispered. “Are you at _all_ aware of what you’re doing to me right now?” 

Quentin swallowed before he responded very quietly, with the hint of a whimper grabbing hold of his words. “This is all kind of new to me, El.” The nickname rolled off his tongue. “I haven’t... I usually don’t get the chance to - _what if I mess it all up?_ ” 

“We don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for. I promise it’s more than okay to tell me if you need to slow down.” Eliot said, breathing deeply and trying to calm himself. He hadn’t expected this to move to the bedroom on the first night anyway, but committing to Q’s comfort level could still involve some serious self-control. 

Q nodded, wrapping Eliot in a warm hug and resting his head on El’s chest. He wanted him so badly, but he also needed some time to let it all soak in. 

Eliot was suddenly very grateful that Q hadn’t gone running in the other direction as soon as El found out he had feelings for him. He reached out and took Quentin's hand in his, then said, “I’m really glad that you told me, Q. I'm all in.” 


	6. Make Some Noise

The next morning, Quentin woke up in his own bed, back in his dorm. He felt _different_. An exciting sense of nervousness filled his belly and his heart started pounding against his chest as soon as he opened his eyes. Normally, this feeling would concern him, but today, he somehow knew that everything was alright. 

It took him a few moments to remember why he felt this way, but once he did, he broke out into a huge smile. Q reached up and touched his bottom lip, letting his mind run wild as he recalled how things had gone the night before. 

After he and Eliot had finally acknowledged their feelings for each other on their own terms, Quentin felt a weight lift. And what happened after their incredibly charged kiss surprised Q more than anyone - suddenly, all he wanted to do was talk. About his planning session with Julia that led to the surprise mood lighting, about their friends, and about school. 

He had been so nervous to mess things up that he'd forgotten just how easy it was to be around Eliot. El asked all of the right questions, navigated any potential awkwardness flawlessly (unless he was pushing it on purpose), and knew exactly when to punctuate his sentences with a gentle touch. Q was usually at least a little bit anxious in conversation, so he especially appreciated the fact that El was so effortlessly social. Knowing that their feelings were mutual made the late-night chat even better because Quentin didn't need to put so much effort into hiding the way he felt. 

At some point, Quentin had realized how tired he was. So Eliot walked him across campus to his dorm, kissed him goodnight so thoroughly that he could've sworn he'd levitated right off the ground, and that is how he ended up back here. 

Q sat up in his bed, taking a moment to notice that his roommate had already left (but not without leaving a passive aggressive note for Q who had apparently dreamed too _loudly_ for Penny to sleep). Luckily, it wouldn’t be too long before he could test for his discipline and move into a less hostile housing situation. 

He got up, dressed in some clothes he felt especially good in, and headed out to the cafeteria for breakfast. A very big part of him hoped that he would accidentally run into Eliot while he was out. 

-

Across campus, Eliot woke up in a spectacular mood. His entire morning routine played out like a movie montage, complete with an upbeat jazz standard that actually played out loud, to the confusion of everyone else in the Physical Kids Cottage. 

For Eliot, the night before had technically ended in the early hours of the morning. After walking Quentin home, he returned to the cottage, made one last round of seriously incredible drinks for everyone, and then sent his guests out the door. 

“I assume that went well?” Margo walked up to the bar with a satisfied smile on her face. 

“You could say that,” Eliot replied as he cleaned up the bar after last call. He was definitely trying to play it cool, flourishing a tea towel through the air, but there was just an honest-to-God happy vibe about him that he had no intention of hiding. 

“About fucking time,” she said once Eliot had finished up. The two headed upstairs with no intention of going to bed - there were still _hours_ left before sunrise. “Tell me _everything_.” 

- 

Quentin typically spent his Sunday mornings in the Brakebills library, catching up on studying for his Monday classes. Obviously, his mind was on other things, but he certainly didn’t want to risk flunking out and getting his memories wiped. So he did his best to focus on that week’s assignments, promising himself that he would find Eliot as soon as his work was done. 

By the time the afternoon rolled around, Quentin’s initial burst of energy had dissipated and with it went his confidence. This happened to Q sometimes; the longer he spent away from someone he cared about, the more he worried that they would forget about him or move on to someone else. 

Last night had felt _so good_ , but maybe it was too good to be true. What if it wasn’t real after all? What if Eliot changed his mind? Quentin found himself stuck in a state of denial and wouldn’t let himself relax about it. 

So when he went back to his dorm room to drop off his books, Quentin was pleasantly surprised to see a note sticking out from under his door. He unlocked the door, bent down to pick it up, and accidentally spilled some of the contents of his messenger bag on the floor in the process. 

The note had a decoratively scripted letter Q written on the outside of it and he quickly unfolded the paper to find out what it contained. 

 

_Come to the cottage tonight for dinner. I’d love to see you._

_-El_

 

Quentin re-read the note four or five times, running his finger over the subtle ridges where Eliot’s pen had pressed into the paper. 

The last time Quentin had received a handwritten note like this, it had been tucked into his locker back in middle school. Something about it brought back a wave of nostalgia and given that his cell phone was still sitting in a drawer in his nightstand (he couldn’t remember the last time he’d actually charged it given that it wouldn’t work predictably at Brakebills), this would do just fine until they figured out a quicker way of getting ahold of each other.  

Q tucked the note into a shoebox under his bed, put away his school supplies, and started to panic about the way he looked and smelled. He still felt like he needed to prove himself and the last thing he wanted was for Eliot to see him and realize he’d made a mistake. 

Half an hour later, a freshly-showered Quentin walked across campus, trying to steady his fidgeting hands along the hem of his shirt. He had no idea what to expect, and even though he was a bit relieved that the future of their relationship wasn’t resting on his shoulders anymore, Q was still nervous as hell. 

After he reached up to knock on the cottage door, it opened pretty quickly to reveal Margo, of all people. 

“Oh! Um, hey Margo. Is Eliot - ” 

“He’s almost ready. Come in,” she said, stepping aside. 

Quentin started floundering almost immediately once the door was shut behind him. “I owe you just so many apologies,” he started. 

“Don’t you dare, Coldwater, don’t you dare!” Margo attempted to stop him in his tracks and started walking away quickly. 

Of course, Q followed her. “Come on, just let me - you dragged me all the way across campus, I definitely offended you at some point and I want to make sure you know that I’m sorry,” he said. 

Margo stopped and turned to face Quentin, looking him right in the eye. “Truly, the honesty was refreshing for a change. I’m not upset that you’re scared of me, in fact, I’d be concerned if you weren’t,” she said. “The only thing I have to say to you regarding that whole debacle is you’re welcome.” 

Quentin wasn’t sure what to say. “...Thanks?” 

“Just... be good to Eliot. He deserves it.” Margo said, quieting her voice down a few levels. 

Q gave her a small smile. “I... can’t _not_. He’s Eliot,” he said sweetly, his voice cracking. 

_“Holy shit, El wasn’t kidding about those dimples. They just don’t quit, do they?”_ Margo remarked under her breath, more to herself than to Quentin even though he was standing right in front of her. 

“Quentin!” Eliot called out excitedly, walking out from the kitchen. He was dressed to the nines, as usual, but the genuine smile on his face was pretty new. 

And contagious. Q grinned and said, “Hi!” as Eliot came over and wrapped him in a hug. Quentin immediately felt all of those worries leave his body as he squeezed back, breathing in deeply. This was real. 

“Come on, I’ve got something to show you,” El said, stepping back and grabbing Quentin’s hand as he pulled him over to the kitchen and out through the back door. 

Eliot had rearranged and decorated the backyard to create something of a private oasis for their date night. A table for two was set up with a bottle of red wine, and several plates full of hot food. Off to the side, Quentin spotted a circular couch of sorts with walls and a roof for privacy that certainly intrigued him. 

As they walked out, Eliot started casting a variety of spells that lit candles, started some romantic music in the background, and pulled down the shades on the windows along the back of the cottage. Quentin watched El’s skilled hands and long fingers forming the different tuts and wondered why he hadn’t just done this as he was setting up everything else. Then, he realized why - Eliot wanted Q to _see_ the magic elements come together in front of his eyes. He knew how much Quentin unapologetically loved magic, so he made it part of the experience. 

“So I thought about taking you out for dinner, but I wanted us to have some time alone so I picked up a bunch of my favorite dishes from a really great little Italian place in Soho and I brought them back here to share,” Eliot said, bringing Q over to the table and pulling out a chair for him. 

“El, this looks amazing,” Quentin said as he sat down. Once he’d quickly taken in his surroundings and the different food options, he shifted his gaze back to Eliot and absolutely could not take his eyes off of him. El always looked good, but for once, Q felt like he actually had permission to stare. 

Eliot could practically feel Quentin checking him out as he sat down in the remaining chair and he was very much into it. He loved the way that Q’s thoughts would always display so obviously on his face, especially when he was _clearly_ thinking about undressing Eliot. “See anything you like?” Eliot asked, starting to open the bottle of wine. 

“Fuck, um, _yes_ ,” Quentin started blushing wildly now that he’d been caught, but he didn’t avert his eyes as Eliot removed the cork, forearms tensing, and poured wine into their glasses. 

El laughed. “Q, you don’t have to be embarrassed with me. I am very glad that you’re here and that you’re looking at me like that. Feel free to continue,” he said as he started to fill up the plate in front of him with small portions of each of the different meals he picked out. 

“Okay, okay, you caught me. I think you’re super hot, now enough of that,” Quentin said back, smiling as he blushed furiously. Q was still flustered, but he got kind of excited when he contemplated the idea that he had the power to make Eliot feel good, even just by looking at him. 

Now, Eliot started putting food on Quentin’s plate. “You’ve got to try some of this, and this one’s also really good - I’m not sure what you’ll think of this one but be a bit adventurous and I think you’ll be surprised. Also, your butt looks really great in those pants,” Eliot said, barely shifting his tone at all when he reached that last sentence. 

Quentin started laughing, then once he had a chance to breathe, he quietly sent Eliot a small, “Thanks.” 

The night went on like that, with them sharing their food and occasionally sneaking in compliments that made the other squirm. The pair was practically giddy with their newfound freedom to flirt with each other and everything felt new and exciting. And what made it even better was that Quentin was actually flirting back this time. He was adorably hesitant, acquiring an almost mischievous glint in his eye before he extended his attempts. Each time, Quentin held his breath as he waited to see how Eliot would respond to them. Of course, El gladly accepted each one with an irresistibly confident smile and sent at least two more back in Q’s direction. 

When they were both full of warm, comforting pasta dishes and pleasantly buzzy from the wine, Eliot stood up from his chair. He made a big show of it, folding up his cloth napkin and putting it next to his empty plate before he walked around the table to where Q sat. "Alright, Coldwater. May I whisk you off to Act Two?" he asked, holding his hand out for Quentin to take. 

Quentin grinned and instinctively reached out without even thinking about it. He slid his hand right into Eliot's, _loving_ how soft it felt, and squeezed lightly. "Do I get to ask what Act Two involves?" Q said, standing up before Eliot could answer because quite honestly, he would follow this man anywhere. 

Eliot smiled, looking down for a second before he stared into Quentin's deep brown eyes. "Do you remember last night, when I asked you to tell me what you wanted?" he asked. 

Quentin swallowed. "Of course," he said. It had sent warm waves of excitement all over him. Consent was fucking sexy. 

El tugged on Q's hand, pulling him in just a bit closer so he could hear him when he spoke in a deep, low groan, "Ask _me_." 

Oh _God_. There went Quentin's heart again, pounding in his chest. He could feel it in his _ears_ (and other places he was slightly more embarrassed about). But this time, those feelings fueled Q. They propelled him forward instead of holding him back. In fact, he couldn't even wait to touch him - Q reached up and gently grazed El's cheek with his thumb. 

"Eliot," he squeaked, and El melted a little bit at the sound of his name in Quentin's mouth. “Tell me what you want, El,” Quentin said so gently and quietly. 

"I can think of dozens of things I want you to do to me," Eliot squeezed Q’s shoulder, and leaned forward until Quentin could feel his hot breath on his ear, "But right now, while we're taking it slow, I want you climb in there with me and let me touch you all over. We can keep our clothes on if you want, at least while we're still out here." He motioned over to the round, cozy cave of a couch farther out in the backyard. 

Quentin was already a shivery, desperate mess as he contemplated the request, so trying to form words was going to take some effort. "Yes please," he flat-out whimpered, then he swallowed and gathered his courage so he could ask, “Can I kiss you?” 

“ _Fuck_ yes,” Eliot said and not even a second passed before Quentin jumped up and kissed him hard on the mouth, wrapping his arms around El's neck. 

They somehow managed to make it over there, all limbs and mouths and breaths as they kissed and stumbled across the lawn. Quentin broke the seal when he felt the back of his calf bump into the edge of the day bed, gasping for air before he turned around and crawled onto what was definitely designed specifically to be some kind of outdoor sex furniture. 

Before he climbed inside, Eliot took a really good look at the doe-eyed boy who was waiting so eagerly, chest rising and falling as he laid on his back. El wanted him so badly. But he'd decided that tonight was about making Q feel good, making sure he was totally comfortable, and proving to him that he would take such good care of him if that’s what Q wanted. 

Eliot prided himself on being able to figure out exactly which approach in his bag of tricks would make his partners feel the best in the current moment. And tonight, he was going to test out something particularly slow and intimate on Quentin. 

As turned on as both of them clearly were right now, Eliot wanted more than anything to find out which parts of Quentin were the most sensitive. He wanted to earn his trust and help shake off that nervousness he knew Q would have for at least a little while. The truth was, he had seen first-hand what his touch could do to this sweet, kind soul and he did not plan on using that power to its full extent until Quentin was literally begging him for it. 

El climbed in slowly and laid down next to Q, looking directly into his eyes. There was still a good amount of space between them, which is exactly what Eliot wanted for now. "I'm going to try some things, and if at any point you want more of something or you want me to stop, tell me, okay?" Eliot said. "Don't be afraid to make some noise. I want to know what you like." 

"Okay," Quentin whispered. He was _so_ excited. Eliot let his eyes flutter closed and he pressed his mouth softly onto Quentin's lips in a much more gentle kiss than the one they'd started the night with. They'd done this enough times to not be quite so hesitant about it, but there was still something so beautiful about a really slow, soft kiss like this. 

Once they had settled in, Eliot began to work his magic. He started by reaching out and touching Quentin's hand, grazing his fingertips so lightly in circles all over his palm. Q squeaked a little bit at how surprisingly good it felt but didn't stop kissing. Eliot's hands were incredibly soft (due to _years_ of moisturizing, undoing the least of the damage his family's farm caused) and he fucking knew what to do with them. 

Once El was pleased with his work in that area, he moved on to lightly touching and rubbing somewhere else as if it were the most sensual, intimate thing in the world. He pinched, tugged, grazed, scratched, and massaged Quentin's forearm and his bicep and his shoulder, carefully gauging his partner’s response to each spot before he moved on to the next. 

Eliot already loved how Quentin's body responded so quickly to the things Eliot did to it (he'd figured this out the day he met him) so this slow, careful exploration was exactly the way he wanted to get totally and fully acquainted with it. 

Something Eliot loved about this particular game is that, while it was fun to touch the parts he knew would spark a reaction, there were definitely a few surprises he wasn't expecting. Q could barely handle gentle scratches on his lower back, he couldn’t get enough of the way El barely rubbed his thumb against the outer shell of his ear, and there was this tiny, soft spot on the inside of his elbow where Eliot discovered he could make him mewl like a cat if he brushed it lightly enough. 

He even stopped kissing Q to crawl down to his legs so he could massage his calves and tease the backs of his thighs and trace circles on his kneecaps. “You weren’t kidding when you said you wanted to touch me all over,” Quentin laughed, feeling so fucking relaxed and just absolutely soaking in the delicious, unexpected feelings Eliot’s caresses were coursing through his whole body. 

When Eliot laid beside him again and finally let himself reach under the hem of Q’s shirt, he began to glide his fingertips back and forth along the sensitive skin just above the waistband of Quentin’s pants. Q reacted beautifully at first, melting under Eliot's touch, then something shifted in him and Quentin froze. 

“Hey,” Eliot said as soon as he noticed the change. “Tell me what you’re thinking, babe.” 

Quentin squeezed his eyes shut. His mind was running a mile a minute. “Are are - are you gonna be upset with me?” he asked. 

“Of course not,” El purred, pressing a kiss to Quentin’s forehead as he temporarily eased his hand to a more neutral location on Quentin’s hip. 

“That felt  _so. good_ , El,” Q said - that wasn’t the hard part. "I _just_ ,” he said, getting stuck and biting his bottom lip. 

Eliot waited for a minute, patiently waiting for Q to share. He’d promised that he wasn’t going to rush tonight, and that included this. 

“Okay, um, I I I got a little nervous when you got close to my dick and I started worrying that I was somehow going to scare you away and now I can’t get back out of my head,” Quentin kind of loudly plowed through the sentence so it would be over as soon as possible. 

El smiled and brushed a strand of Q’s hair behind his ear. He wasn’t sure how far things would end up going tonight, but he _had_ hoped that Quentin would feel comfortable enough to tell him when he wanted to stop. Q let himself be vulnerable and honest and Eliot considered that to be a breakthrough. Plus, this was a good reminder that he needed to figure out some creative ways to help Quentin relax and work past his mental block. 

“Come here,” Eliot whispered, pulling his arms around Q, who didn’t need to be asked twice and snuggled right in. Quentin curled his sweet, compact little body up to Eliot, all warm and wonderful and desperate to press his whole self against the man who had just spent so much time getting to know the ways he liked to be touched. 

“Is this better?” El asked. 

“Mmhmm,” Quentin mumbled into Eliot’s chest. “I could stay like this for hours,” he whispered. 

And so they did. 


	7. Chocolate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick warning! There are very brief mentions of depression and bullying, and a lightly implied mention of abuse in this chapter.

That week, Quentin’s classes were just as demanding as usual. He focused as hard as he could despite the highly distracting circumstances, though the possibility that too many daydreams about a certain gorgeous 6’2” upperclassman could result in him flunking out and losing his memories kept him in line. Eliot had classes too, after all. 

But by the time 5 pm rolled around each day, Quentin finished up his schoolwork and started making his way over to the Physical Kids Cottage. Josh Hoberman let him in on Monday, and as soon as Q walked inside, he heard Eliot call out, “I’m up here!” 

“Uh, okay!” Quentin called, clutching his messenger bag to his side and muttering a quick “Thanks, Josh!” before he ran up the stairs. He headed down the hall to Eliot’s room and lightly knocked on the door even though it was already open a crack. 

“Come on in, Q! I’m just finishing up something,” Eliot said. Quentin pushed the door open the rest of the way and slowly walked inside. 

“Close that, would you?” El asked, briefly looking up and smiling when he saw the face he'd been waiting all day to see. Q didn’t need to be asked twice; he clicked the door shut, put his bag down on the floor, and took a second to take in his surroundings. 

El was sitting on his bed with a notebook and some open textbooks. He pulled a pen from where it rested behind his ear, then scribbled down what Quentin guessed was the rest of a sentence. When he was finished, Eliot tucked the pen into the spiral binding of the notebook and cast a quick tut that encouraged all of the books to start closing and shuffling themselves into a neat stack. 

Q had only been in Eliot’s room once before, during the afternoon with the truth spell. This time felt different; for one, El was actually in there with him. The room smelled as good as he remembered and it was well-kept and organized. 

“Here; now we’ve got plenty of space,” Eliot said once he had moved the pile of books onto his dresser. He confidently beckoned to Q, casually demanding his presence on the neatly made bed in a way that made Q's pulse speed up. Quentin took a step forward but paused for a second, considering the weight he felt pushing down on him by the seemingly simple request - was this supposed to be a big moment? 

El smiled as he read the look on Q’s face. “Look at you. _God_ , you're cute. It’s just me, Q. I don’t bite… hard,” Eliot said, leaning back into a more comfortable position than the one he'd been in while he was studying. “Take all the time you need, I'll just be over here, checking you out,” Eliot said, dramatically looking him over from head to toe. 

Quentin turned bright red and bit his lip. Once he managed to remind his brain that his legs needed to move now, he walked over and crawled onto Eliot’s bed. ' _Oh hey, I’m in your bed with you. Look at that_ ,’ Q thought, nervously sweeping his long brown hair behind his ear to get it out of his face. He thought for a second about what to do next, then decided to go with his gut, which told him that he needed to lean over and kiss El immediately. He did, noticing right away that Eliot's lips were so soft and pliant and perfect. Q could barely believe that this was something he could just do now. He felt so lucky. 

Eliot's heart leaped into his throat in the best way as the surprise kiss caught him pleasantly off-guard. He was not expecting Quentin to go immediately from shaking in his boots over sitting on a bed together to sweetly pressing his mouth against his, so when it happened, it affected him even more than usual. Somehow, despite all of his experience in this department, Eliot couldn't predict what Q was going to do next and it made being with him feel ten times more exciting. 

It was just a quick, soft kiss, but when Quentin pulled away and saw the smile that was forming across Eliot’s face, Q relaxed considerably. In fact, he came just short of sighing out loud like a cartoon character. 

“ _That_ was really nice," Eliot said, still not quite able to shake that smile away. As much as he wanted to help Q get to a place where he wouldn’t be this visibly nervous around him, he had to admit that Q's fidgety spontaneity was very endearing. 

Quentin was taking a minute to check in on his various senses when he realized that Eliot tasted even better than usual. “Did you… were you just eating chocolate?” Q asked. 

Eliot chuckled. “You caught me. I stress-eat when I have an exam coming up. Want some?” El offered as he opened up the second drawer on his nightstand to reveal quite a collection of small chocolate bars. They had handmade-looking but classy packaging that Q didn't recognize. 

Quentin nodded and Eliot tossed him one. Q didn’t even try to catch it; he just figured it would be easier to pick it up off the bed, which it was. “Thanks,” Q said, tearing open the package and taking a bite. 

He was hit with a sudden rush of euphoria - this was _certainly_ more than just chocolate. When Q recovered a few seconds later, he turned over the package in his hands and studied it carefully. “Whoa - I knew chocolate was an aphrodisiac, but this -“ 

“Came from a cute little chocolate shop run by a Brakebills Alumna. I stop by once a semester to stock up. Thought you might like that one,” Eliot said. “The effect wears off almost right away, but I find they help jump-start a mood change if you ever need one.” 

“I fucking love magic,” Quentin said, curling up closer to Eliot on the bed and lying his head in his lap. 

Eliot reached down and started running his fingers through Q’s hair. This felt good. No pressure, no plans, just them. 

Quentin let his eyes flutter closed, focusing on how good it felt to have Eliot touching his hair. "How do you even go back to regular life after being here?" he asked. "I'm not even excited to go home for Christmas."

"I haven't gone back," Eliot said, starting to massage Q's scalp with his fingertips. "Campus gets pretty quiet during breaks but it beats dealing with my family." 

Opening his eyes, Quentin looked up at Eliot for a second. He realized that he didn't actually know very much about who Eliot was before Brakebills. He was curious, but he didn't know how to ask about it, and he definitely didn't want to push the matter if Eliot didn't want to talk about it. 

"I - uh, I'm sorry. I'm glad you found somewhere better," Quentin settled on that, content to leave it there if Eliot chose to do so. He looked back up at the ceiling. 

Eliot took a breath. Well, here goes. "My father - wanted me to be someone else. And he made that painfully clear for my entire childhood," El said slowly and carefully. 

When it was clear that Eliot was done, Quentin started, "El, that's-" 

"Cliché?" Eliot spit out a bit of a sad laugh. "My teenage years were a scene out of a coming of age movie where I was the unnamed background character getting bullied that the hero decides not to help. In the movie, the hero regrets it later in a poignant moment of clarity, but I doubt that part actually happened. I was the punchline to every joke. With literal punching involved." 

Quentin sat up, turning to look into Eliot's eyes. "I was going to say undeserved, unfair even? No one should have to deal with that bullshit just for being who they are," Quentin said. "You're fucking incredible and the students here worship the ground you walk on. You're the star of the show now. Everyone either wants you or wants to be you. None of those people back at home deserve you, El." 

Eliot knew that, but it was nice hearing it from someone he cared about. "How about you, Coldwater? I can't be the only one with hometown drama," he said, hoping to shift the focus off of himself so he wouldn't have to reveal _where_ he grew up. At least not today. 

"My family's okay I guess, I just - my life felt wrong until I came here. I was stuck in a place that made me feel useless. My head was always off somewhere else, in books and thoughts and now it's like my whole body is there too and I don't know what will happen to me whenever I end up going back," Q explained. "I wasn't in a good place when I arrived here." 

"I remember," Eliot said, reaching over and placing his hand over Quentin's hand, which was pressing into the mattress between them. He rubbed his thumb over the back of Q’s hand, tracing little circles and waiting to see if Quentin would keep talking about it. 

He did. "Things have been... pretty balanced these last few weeks, but if you're planning on being around for a while, you might need to know. It, um, it gets worse sometimes out of nowhere. Even when everything in my life is great and I should want to, you know, get out of bed in the morning, my brain tells me otherwise. I can't always predict it," Q shared. "I've... been in and out of hospitals the past few years." 

Eliot nodded. "Thank you for telling me. You know I'm here for you, right?" he said, sliding his hand up Quentin's arm. Q sat there, not saying anything back for a minute while Eliot lightly squeezed his shoulder.

A corner of Eliot's mouth perked up as he reached up and tucked Quentin's hair behind his ear. "You know Q, you're a grown ass adult. You can make your life what you want it to be now. Go back for a minute if it feels okay, stay at Brakebills, go somewhere else; you're not stuck anymore," El asserted. "Open a fucking magical chocolate shop in a neighborhood where you don't know anyone and start a new life from scratch if that's what it takes to make you feel like the person I see when I look at you." 

Quentin felt his ears warm up when Eliot touched him, and the warmth moved all over when Q began to process that last line. Part of him still couldn't believe that this beautiful, brilliant upperclassman he'd been crushing on since day one truly _wanted_ him. He felt his stomach turn over when he realized how badly he wanted to be brave right now. "Speaking of chocolate, can I get another one of those?" Q asked as casually as he could, pointing towards the stash of sweets in Eliot's nightstand. 

"I might need to join you after that trip down memory lane," El responded, turning over and rummaging through the various options. "Are you looking to feel peaceful, confident, or fulfilled for the next thirty seconds?" 

Q swallowed, letting his eyes drift downwards to Eliot's backside. "A little confidence might be nice right now," he admitted quietly. When Eliot flipped onto his back again and handed him the chocolate bar, he was understandably intrigued by what Quentin was hoping to do with that confidence. Q made a point to brush his fingers against El's for a few seconds before he took it and removed the wrapper.

When the chocolate began to melt on his tongue, Quentin felt his chest puff up and his heart started to race in a way that _didn't_ totally stop him from asking for what he wanted. It was fueling him. "OKAY. I know these don't last long, but maybe I can just get this out - you made me feel so good last night and I know that I stopped things short but I wanted to do something for you in return when I'm not freaking out. So if it's okay with you, I really fucking want you in my mouth right now," Q articulated rather loudly, his chest rising and falling, and he let out a little laugh at hearing himself actually effectively say what was in his head for once. 

Eliot's eyes widened as he finished up a bitter dark chocolate blend that melted the tension right out of his shoulders. "You sure?" he asked, trying to stay as calm as he could (the chocolate certainly helped). El looked Q over quickly, checking for any signs that his request might be at all magically induced. 

But now that the tiny spell had worn off, Quentin stayed firm in his resolve, looking at Eliot with unmistakable thirst in his eyes. Q nodded, stealing a glance between Eliot's legs where he noticed what was undoubtedly becoming the largest erection he had ever seen. And now he wanted it even more, immediately looking up into El's eyes and practically squeaking, " _Please_." 

"Hell YES. _Shit_ , Q," Eliot replied excitedly. He could barely believe what he was hearing and the desperate way Q asked for it turned him on even more - he had assumed this would be something they would have to work up to. 

Quentin scrambled to unbuckle Eliot's belt as his hair fell into his face. He was _so_ eager and it was _fucking_ adorable. 

"Have you ever done this before?" El asked out of pure curiosity, watching intently. 

"Once," Q said as he'd pulled Eliot's pants down, but when he went to remove his boxer briefs, Quentin noticed how much his hands were shaking.  _Goddamn it._

Eliot saw the sudden panic on Q's face and covered one of Q's shaking hands with his own. " _Hey_ ," he said sweetly, anchoring Quentin back from wherever he was about to float off to. 

Tonight, that was all it took to encourage Q to snap out of it. He looked back up into Eliot's reassuring eyes, gave him the most devilish smirk, and went to fucking town. 

-

" _Jesus_ , Q," Eliot repeated, burying his head in Quentin's shoulder. 

Quentin laughed. "You keep saying that," he pointed out, grinning from ear-to-ear. Make no mistake, he fucking loved hearing about how good he'd made Eliot feel. 

Something about the unpredictability of Quentin's approach to blowjobs really caught Eliot off-guard. El's past partners usually had a few well-tested moves they repeated, but Q had just completely gone for it and tried absolutely everything he could think of. Once he stumbled into something that felt especially great, Q dutifully paid attention to Eliot's responses and requests, since El had no problem speaking up when he wanted something specific. Quentin was, at times, enthusiastic and attentive and so thirsty and incredibly gentle and even a bit sloppy - and that mix of approaches was surprisingly exactly what Eliot needed. 

On top of everything else, Q spent the first few minutes trying to hide how vocal he was, like Eliot's dick was the most incredible thing he'd ever had in his mouth and he could barely hold back the sounds it evoked from him. Once Eliot noticed a halfway repressed whimper that managed to escape from Q's gorgeous mouth, he immediately put a stop to that and encouraged Quentin to make as much noise as he wanted. After that, the vibrations he could feel in Quentin's throat made everything even more intense. 

"You know, I can return the favor anytime," El said, enjoying the snuggle but feeling a bit desperate to continue the fun. “I’d really like to,” he added. This wasn’t just about repaying favors; he wanted Q so badly. He wanted to feel Quentin’s bare skin all over him. 

Quentin was still fully clothed, lying next to a blissed-out, half-naked Eliot on the bed. They were wrapped up in each other, looking up at the ceiling. "I'll get there," Q assured him. And Eliot was prepared to wait, however long it took. 


	8. Dinner Party

Quentin was fastening the buttons on his cardigan when he heard two quick knocks on his door. Admittedly, he was in a bit of a panic over what to wear tonight, so the sound mildly startled him. 

Stumbling over a few things he'd dropped on the floor earlier, he opened the door and revealed Julia who was all done up, hair curled and makeup perfect. "Come in, I need your help," Quentin said, nervously pushing his hair behind his ear. "What do you think?" he stepped back to let her inside his dorm room, holding his arms out in a kind of awkward pose so she could help him with his outfit. 

Julia brought her hand up to cover her mouth, attempting to suppress a bit of a laugh. "Well, you look cute, but your buttons aren't really lined up - could I take a look in here?" she said, gesturing towards Quentin's sweater, then turning to investigate his closet. 

"Sure, um, go ahead," he said, looking down and feeling a bit silly. He started unbuttoning the sweater again as he heard metal clothes hangers sliding around and clinking together. 

"Here, try these," Julia pulled a few items out one at a time and draped them over his bed, then turned around to face the window so Quentin could have a little privacy. "Any idea what Eliot's cooking tonight?" she asked. 

Tuesday was Eliot's night to cook dinner for the Physical Kids and their guests each week, and Julia and Quentin had been attending ever since he invited them during their tour of Brakebills on their first day. This was the first one since Quentin and Eliot had started dating, so understandably, Q wanted to look his best. 

"He usually likes to keep it a surprise," Quentin said, pulling off his first choice of shirt, which had gotten stuck around his head for a moment. One he was free of the soft cloth’s grip, he reached over to take the collared shirt that Julia had laid out for him, removed it from the hanger, and started to put it on. 

"Is everything going well with you two?" she asked, now rummaging through Q's dresser where she found a couple of ties, and after a minute, she picked one that made sense with the rest of the ensemble. 

Quentin kicked off his pants. "Yeah, actually. Really good," he said as he stepped into the other pair, then he tucked in his shirt in and started zipping up his fly. “You can turn around,” he said when everything was covered again. 

Julia pivoted on her feet and walked back over, then wrapped the tie around Quentin’s neck and started to tie it for him. “I’m really glad to hear that,” she said. “You look happy, Q.” Understandably, Julia worried about Quentin and she had hoped he would bounce back after he took the truth spell so hard. They had been friends since they were kids, so she had seen him through some rough stuff. 

Q took in a breath. “He’s kind of the hottest person I’ve ever -”

“Oh, no question,” Julia commented very quickly while finished tying his tie, then she reached for a brush so she could fix Q’s hair. 

He shot her a look, then went back to holding very still while his best friend fussed over his appearance. Quentin was quite used to letting Julia do this and he appreciated that she was more than willing to step in and take care of him when he needed her to. 

“What, was that too much agreement?” she pulled her hand back, then laughed quietly. 

“Maybe a little,” Q said, and oops, he was smiling. He had planned on giving Jules a hard time for a bit longer, but she was right. Quentin had been with a handful of people over the years, but he had always just kind of... settled. Ever since Q was younger, he had a habit of ending up with whoever seemed to like him the most at any given time - something about the feeling of being wanted and loved attracted him, even if he wasn’t particularly smitten with the person it was coming from. Those opportunities were more rare than he cared to admit and Quentin, who craved positive attention and approval, wasn’t in a place to turn down the comfort of being noticed and appreciated. Unfortunately, the people he loved and wanted didn’t always want him back. 

And now, here he was, in the unique and incredibly lucky position of wanting the hell out of someone who really fucking wanted him back. That all-important detail made his relationship with Eliot simultaneously exciting and terrifying. Quentin wasn’t completely used to the idea of it yet, so something about it still didn’t feel entirely _real_. Of course, that feeling resulted in anxiety over small details like his outfit, as if he could choose the wrong tie and Eliot would change his mind about wanting to be with him. Having Julia around to help took some of the heat off. 

“We should head over. Belt? Shoes?” Julia said, brushing off Q’s shoulder before he made quick choices (he honestly didn’t have enough pairs of shoes for this to be a tough decision) and scrambled to put on the last few pieces. 

Q took one final look in the mirror when he was ready, smoothing his hair back. “Better?” he asked. 

Jules popped up from behind his shoulder in the mirror, grinning at his reflection. “You’re terribly overdressed. Eliot will love it.” 

-

When the pair arrived at the Physical Kids’ Cottage and knocked on the door, they were surprised to see Eliot answering it. At this point in the night, he would usually be in the kitchen finishing things up. But if there’s anything Eliot Waugh enjoys more than preparing a truly satisfying meal or drink that can knock your socks off, it’s being a fucking fantastic host. 

“Welcome Ms. Wicker, looking lovely as always,” Eliot charmed, bending down to kiss the back of Julia’s hand and stepping aside to let her in. 

Quentin had been hiding behind her, cowering a bit. He couldn’t hide that gorgeous smile though, no matter how nervous he was. This was the first time Quentin would be hanging out with all of their friends as Eliot’s boyfriend and somehow, that felt important. 

So when Julia stepped away, revealing a dressed up Q whose posture implied that he was trying to appear even smaller than he already was, Eliot’s whole face changed. El had been waiting all day to see him, to touch him, to taste his mouth. 

“Come here,” Eliot said quietly, his low voice rumbling with so much fondness as he reached out for Quentin’s hand. 

“Hi,” Q let out a tiny greeting as he took Eliot’s hand and allowed himself to be reeled in, trying to ignore the butterflies that took flight inside his stomach as soon as he saw the way Eliot was looking at him. 

El wrapped his other arm around Q’s back and pulled him close, kissing him hungrily for just a second. When he pulled back despite the pouty whimper of protest that fell from Quentin’s mouth, Eliot whispered, “You look so _good_ , Q.” 

Suddenly, Quentin got a very real urge to bail on the dinner party so he could spend some quality time removing Eliot’s really nice outfit upstairs. El always looked very put together, but he went above and beyond for his fancy dinner parties. 

“ _Fuck_ ,” was all Q could manage to say while he tried to regain his composure, and Eliot laughed in response. 

“Well, on that note, I have a few things left to get ready,” El said, pressing a kiss to Quentin’s forehead before sliding his hand down Q's arm and tugging him inside. 

-

By the time they were all sitting down to eat, Quentin had been staring at Eliot in awe for what must have been an hour, unable to touch him, not wanting to distract him from all of the work he was doing to make this dinner absolutely perfect. Maybe next week, he'd work up the courage to sneak into the kitchen and press himself up against Eliot's back, snaking his arms around El's middle and pressing a kiss onto the base of his neck. He'd pictured himself doing it at least several times, but while things were still new, Quentin resisted the urge. 

Q looked on as Eliot placed a full plate in front of each person and explained each of the thoughtful and complicated dishes he'd prepared. El had even created equally interesting substitutions for the folks with dietary restrictions and Quentin was somehow more impressed than he usually was by Eliot's weekly dinner party menus. Maybe it was because El always worked to raise his own standards and this meal was legitimately even better than last week's, but something told Q that this warm feeling creeping up into his chest was about more than that. Quentin's heart swelled up as he watched Eliot brilliantly excel for no other prize than the satisfaction of his housemates. He felt _proud_ of him in a way that he hadn't before because now, Eliot was _his_. 

So when El finished his speech and sat down in the empty seat next to Quentin, saying "Eat up, everyone," and shaking out a cloth napkin that he then placed into his lap, Q turned to give him one of the most loaded glances Eliot had ever seen. 

El could barely contain his joy when he saw it. Q's wet puppy dog eyes and sweet smile told him  _'you did so well'_   and _'this is incredible'_   and _'I can't believe you're mine'_   and of course,  _'I might not be able to stop myself from jumping your bones as soon as I'm done eating every single bite of this'_   all at once. 

After Quentin felt like he'd fully communicated all of his feelings with that look, he reached out and squeezed Eliot's forearm. Then he smiled shyly, let go, looked down, and started trying all of the different foods that El had arranged on his plate. 

Dinner conversation was pretty consistent with the other Tuesday night dinner parties. They caught up on the latest Brakebills gossip, debated which of the faculty would win in a fight, and reminded Todd that his puns were neither amusing nor welcome. Quentin still didn't understand the dynamic there; he wasn't sure why Todd continued to hang around when so many of the Physical Kids' mean-spirited jokes were at his expense, but Q tried his best to stay out of it. He certainly wouldn't handle the barrage of insults any better if it were directed at him. 

But as all of this was going on, Quentin began to notice something rubbing up against the side of his shoe. He quickly retracted his foot in an attempt to take up even less space, muttering, "Sorry!" since he'd assumed that he'd kicked someone by accident. But all at once, he realized what was happening when he felt Eliot's warm hand on his thigh. 

Q looked over at El, who was somehow still involved in the current conversation as he very slowly rubbed his palm up and down Quentin’s leg. Quentin immediately knew that he would be terrible at this game but that didn't stop him from very slowly angling his right knee outwards until his right leg pointed almost straight towards Eliot. 

He _hoped hoped hoped_ that El would take the invitation to keep touching, realizing that it was silly to pretend to psychically communicate when there were actual psychics on campus. Somewhere, his roommate was probably hearing this in his head. Few things embarrassed Quentin more than knowing that he was even worse at hiding his thoughts around someone who could read them. God, Q couldn't wait to be tested for a discipline so he could get out of that dorm. 

Even Eliot couldn't hold it together when he realized what Quentin was doing. He looked down at his plate, pretending to be very interested in something on his fork as he began sliding his fingers up the inside of Q's thigh. _Was this okay? Would Q have fucking OPENED HIS LEGS if he didn't want Eliot to touch him like this?_   This was totally new for them, but El's usual method of checking in with Q kind of flew out the window when they were trying to hide what was happening from the people seated all around them. 

El stopped for a second, letting his hand stop just short of the uncharted territory so he could wait for some sort of sign that Quentin wanted this right now. And somehow, Q found the courage beneath his pounding heart to subtly reach down, take Eliot's hand, and slide it the rest of the way, settling right between his legs. 

Thankfully, Eliot had really long arms. 

They miraculously managed to get this far without really giving away what was happening under the table, which is especially impressive considering that _Quentin_ was on the receiving end. He didn't know what about their current surroundings made this less scary than the other night when he totally froze up, but he was very glad that he'd decided to go with it. 

After staying still for a few seconds, Eliot started gently rubbing Q’s dick through his dress pants. Quentin’s breath caught in his throat for a second and his heart started pounding, but once he realized this was a _good_  feeling, he slowly released his hold on El’s hand. 

Aside from the blush creeping up his neck, Quentin managed to concentrate on his breathing and keep from moving around too much as Eliot’s long fingers massaged the growing bulge in his pants. Q had stopped eating, but his plate was mostly empty so maybe that wouldn't look too suspicious. He also wasn't contributing a whole lot to the table conversation, but that wasn't unlike him either. He could only find the strength to concentrate on two things; the way Eliot was making him feel and the way he imagined Eliot's face must look right now (Quentin did not have the guts to look over and find out). 

And just when _things_ were starting to get especially difficult to suppress, Margo cleared her throat, snapping both boys out of it and causing Eliot to pull his hand back into his own lap. 

Clearly feeling pleased with herself, Margo leaned over and quietly asked, "El, would you mind pouring me a refill?" and handed Eliot her empty glass. It was then that he noticed a message written in the condensation: 

GET. A. ROOM. 

-

After dinner, everyone moved into the living room where they could get more comfortable and Eliot walked off to fix the whole group a round of fancy cocktails that incorporated complimentary flavors and garnishes featuring some of the leftover fresh herbs from the meal. 

Ties were loosened, shoes off, even a few shirts were unbuttoned. Eliot's strict dress code was fun for a while, but once everyone was filled with delicious food, draped over couches, and pleasantly warm from having a few drinks, the facade wore off and even Eliot was grateful for the chance to relax. 

Once El had handed everyone a full glass and placed his tray back on the bar, he walked into the living room where everyone was laughing at something. He glanced around the room until his eyes settled on Q who was waiting for him on a couch all by himself, positively beaming up at him. Eliot sauntered over and sat down right next to him, nestling himself right into a perfect spot against Q’s side. 

Quentin’s heart was once again convinced that he must’ve been running a race. Feeling El’s body pressed up against his, even in this very relaxed environment, sent a rush of feelings straight through him. He wanted to touch him, so Q started to extend a shaking hand around Eliot, trying so hard to make it look like this was easy. 

Obviously, he was failing - the almost pained, nervous look on his face gave him away and Julia quickly noticed it. Catching Eliot’s eye as the conversation continued, she pressed her lips firmly together and nodded her head in Q’s direction as if to say, _‘help him out’_. 

Eliot should’ve known that the same guy who was practically begging for a handjob under the dinner table would be self-conscious about initiating a cuddle not even twenty minutes later and he suppressed a laugh when Julia subtly pointed it out to him. So El reached up behind him to take Q’s hand where it had gotten stuck and pulled it the rest of the way around him. He sunk further down into the couch so he could lean his head back into Quentin’s shoulder, then rested his hand on Q’s thigh, taking care not to move it too much. 

Margo, who had also saved Eliot a place on the couch where she was sitting, took the opportunity to spread out so it wasn't quite so obvious that she was disappointed to be sitting alone. What was obvious, however, was that she was sending some pretty angry looks in Quentin's direction. Q eventually noticed and quickly looked to his left and right to make sure that the scowls were in fact directed at him. He was starting to get pretty worried about whatever he had done to earn them when he heard his name and tried to tune back into what everyone else was talking about. 

"Wait, you've known Quentin since you were kids?" Josh asked Julia, who must have mentioned her childhood while Q was distracted by the quickly spiraling idea that Margo might try to kill him. 

“Oh God, please don’t show them the pictures,” Quentin sighed, then he quickly regretted saying it as he watched everyone around him react to the realization that embarrassing photos of Q must indeed exist. 

Eliot sat up immediately. “Oh, sweet Q. Never mention pictures if you don’t want us to know there are pictures,” El said, turning towards Julia and instantly changing his tone of voice. “Show us these pictures immediately.” he ordered. 

Julia looked over to check with Quentin, who had realized his mistake almost right away. He paused, looked around the room only to realize that he'd backed himself in a metaphorical corner, and groaned, "...Fine, go ahead." 

Quentin, who was already mortified, covered his face with both hands and slumped down in his seat. Then, once she had been given the okay, Julia started scrolling through the older photos on her phone and everyone else gathered behind her so they could see. 

“Jesus Christ, Coldwater!” a very amused Margo was the first to get up and therefore the first to react with unrestrained hysterics to whatever photo Julia had pulled up of his awkward preteen and high school years. 

Eliot was absolutely going to look at these photos, but he was at least making an effort to hide his reactions in order to keep Q from feeling too embarrassed. And goodness, these photos were golden. Julia continued to swipe through a couple of her favorites from when they were young teenagers and there was even one she had scanned in from when they were small. 

After the longest minute of Quentin's life, Julia turned her phone screen off and everyone voiced their disappointment that the fun was over before they scattered back to their seats. 

Eliot returned to the couch with a satisfied smirk on his face. Sensing what Quentin needed, he handed Q the drink he had placed on the coffee table earlier. Eliot knew from experience that Q’s level of embarrassment decreased significantly with the increase of his blood alcohol level. 

Quentin happily accepted the drink and had a few sips while Eliot placed a hand on Q's back. Gratefully, the rest of the group moved on to talking about something else as if this new information wasn't as earth-shattering as Quentin felt like it was. Leaning over to Eliot once everyone's attention was no longer on him (they had moved on to gossiping about a professor Quentin didn’t have any classes with), Q indicated that he had something to say to El. Unsurprisingly, no sound came out and instead, he awkwardly hovered over Eliot's shoulder. 

El smiled and brushed his fingertips under Quentin's jawline while he quietly asked, "What's on your mind?” 

Quentin quickly looked down while he tried to collect his thoughts. He was warm and buzzy, but the embarrassment was still heavy on his shoulders so he felt like he needed to ask. After a minute, he very softly mumbled, “Do you still like me? The pictures...” 

“Q, are you kidding?” Eliot laughed. “Of course I do. You were cute! And who _hasn't_ gone through a regrettable fashion phase?” For Eliot, that phase happened when he was too little to pick out his own clothes and his aversion to his parents’ style choices strongly influenced his approach to dressing himself once he had control. A particularly awful posed photo came to mind, where he had been forced to wear overalls with a plaid flannel shirt as if his family _needed_ everyone to know that their son grew up on a farm. Eliot had stolen and burned that photo as soon as he was old enough to light a match. 

Drunk Quentin somehow wasn’t expecting Eliot to be so sweet about something that would've been so easy to make fun of and the relief pushed him to bury his face in Eliot’s chest, pulling him close and breathing him in. He paused for a second, considering what he'd just heard, then leaned up and whispered, “Am I still cute now?” into Eliot’s neck. 

“You are _seriously_ cute,” Eliot assured him, smiling and nudging Q's forehead with his nose. "I almost can't take it." 

Quentin _really_ wanted to make out with this man right the fuck now. He wanted to run his fingers through the gorgeous, dark curls that had started to fall into Eliot's face, then push him back onto the couch so he could crawl right on top of him and kiss the living daylights out of him. Then, he realized how late it was for a Tuesday night considering that he had classes the next morning. 

"I should head back soon," he said quietly, sounding as disappointed as he felt. "Would you… um. Can we go outside?" 

Eliot sat up, raising an eyebrow. Part of him was hoping that Q would want to take him upstairs, but it _was_ a school night and they would probably have to rush anyway. El knew that he wanted to take him apart slowly, when Quentin was truly ready and when he wouldn't be worried about his classwork. So for now, this would do. " _Oh yes,_ " El said, getting up off of the couch and reaching down to take Q's hand. 

Quentin's eyes quickly darted around the room, briefly landing on a very grumpy-looking Margo as Eliot tugged him into a standing position. Then, he spotted Julia and said, "Hey Jules, maybe we can get going in like five minutes?" as he was pulled backward, all flustered and overjoyed to be dragged towards the front door by El. 

"Yeah, see you in a few!" Julia said, smirking and letting out a laugh before going back to her conversation with Todd. 

Before he really knew what was happening, Quentin had felt a rush of fresh air, the firm press of a tall, thin body pushing him up against the cottage, and Eliot's tongue in his mouth. Q sighed into the kiss, admittedly loving being manhandled like this. Eliot was usually so purposefully gentle with him, but something about their game under the table had dialed up the heat. 

Quentin gripped El’s middle and tried to pull him in even closer, showing Eliot that it was more than okay to trap him against the wall like this. He loved that El was so much taller than he was, and even though Q was surprisingly strong for his size, feeling surrounded by Eliot allowed Quentin to push some of the doubt and insecurity out of his mind, at least for a little while. 

Eliot was desperately kissing him, cupping his hand around the back of Q’s head to protect it from the hard surface and running his other hand all over Q’s body. He pushed himself hard into him, rubbing anywhere he could reach, even untucking Q’s shirt and sliding his hand inside of it so he could feel the hot bare skin of Quentin’s side against his palm. 

When Quentin started kissing Eliot’s neck, burying his face in the warmth of him and feeling so intoxicated as he breathed in his gorgeous masculine scent, Eliot was grateful for the chance to breathe. El looked up to grant Q more access to his neck, filled his lungs with fresh air, and spoke with that rumbling, low tone Q loved so much. “ _Fuck_ , Q. Do you really have to go?” 

And with that, a tentative series of quiet knocks sounded from the inside of the cottage door. _Julia._

Quentin paused and exhaled, letting a warm and slow breath caress Eliot’s neck. He never wanted this to stop, but he knew he’d need to get up early the next day and he felt bad bailing on Jules. “Tomorrow. Can we -” 

“I’ll find you after class,” Eliot said, breathing heavily and pressing one last kiss to Quentin’s lips. Then, El backed up and started walking around to the back of the cottage, not particularly looking forward to sticking around given the state of his erection. The idea that Q was starting to feel more comfortable being intimate with him set his mind ablaze and he was going to need some time alone to come down from that. 

Eliot looked up before he turned the corner to find that Quentin was watching him go, still leaning up against the side of the cottage and looking so disheveled and gorgeous and _happy_. Q reached up a tired, still shaking hand and gave a little wave. 

“Bye, Q” El said back and smiled, winking and taking one last good look at him before he left. 

Quentin let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding and closed his eyes. “Thanks for waiting, Jules,” he squeaked out loud enough for her to hear from inside, still uninterested in moving. 

When Julia opened the door and walked outside to find Q looking the way he did, a huge grin appeared on her face. “Quentin, what the fuck!” she said happily once she realized that Eliot had left and that she could share her excitement without embarrassing Quentin. Julia had _never_ seen him like this before; when it came to Quentin’s romantic life, she had either been the one picking up his broken pieces or unintentionally hurting him. Seeing Q slumped against the wall with his shirt half untucked, hair everywhere, and a smile practically exploding across his face was so far from the way she usually expected to find him and she was practically giddy about it. 

“So does this mean you’re not upset about the photos?” she asked, raising her eyebrows and biting her bottom lip. 

That was what it took to snap Q out of his near-trance as he laughed and took a step away from the wall. “Yeah, about that-” he started jokingly as they began their trek back across campus. 


	9. Trip to the Library

 

As Wednesday afternoon crept up, a nervous Eliot Waugh made his way from his last class to the main building on campus. The average Brakebills student passing by might not have been able to tell the difference since he still carried himself with an uncommon amount of confidence and he towered over most of them. But upon closer inspection, his fingers drummed against the cuffs of his sleeves, his heart pounded in his chest, and if anyone said hello or asked him for the time, he might not have been able to respond as smoothly as usual. 

Even though El knew for sure that Quentin returned his feelings, actually navigating the newness of this relationship was a delicate process and that worried him. He wanted so badly to keep from screwing this up and what they’d found was so intense and unfamiliar that he was terrified to lose it. And while Eliot certainly made it look like he knew what he was doing, the vast majority of his past relationships were quite casual and short-lived. He had never been this invested before. Quentin had made it clear from the beginning that he wanted more out of this than just sex, and despite his inexperience, El was all in. 

However, sex had presented some challenges so far and that was something that Eliot knew he could figure out. 

Despite the endearing way that Quentin wore every emotion on his face, Eliot couldn’t always read what Q was thinking when things heated up. How could someone who displayed his thoughts so clearly still surprise Eliot as easily as he had last night? For that reason, Eliot knew that he still had work to do when it came to encouraging Q to be more vocal about what he wanted or when to stop. 

But not today. Today’s plan involved an entirely different approach, provided that Q was okay with that. 

When Eliot reached the Brakebills sign, he hoisted himself up. He positioned himself purposefully, knowing that Quentin would immediately grasp the significance if he pulled it off. Taking a deep breath to try and relax when he realized how fast his chest had been rising and falling, Eliot began to wait. 

After minutes had passed and a few groups of students had piled out of the door, he noticed Quentin’s floppy hair in the crowd. Thirty seconds later, Quentin’s face lit up - he’d finally noticed Eliot, who was draped across the Brakebills sign with a smoldering look in his eye. The pose wasn’t too far off from the way he’d looked the moment they’d met. 

“Hey,” a very smiley Quentin hopped down the stone steps and beamed at Eliot as soon as he was close enough. “You came to see me!”

Eliot just about melted. “I figured you’d be getting out soon and I had an idea I wanted to talk to you about,” El said, sitting up and sliding down off of his perch. “Plus, I thought maybe I could wrap my arm around you or hold your hand and make everybody jealous,” Eliot raised an eyebrow, reaching his long arms towards Quentin in case he was game. 

The idea of letting the whole school see just how much Eliot Waugh liked him all but set Quentin on fire, mostly because it involved touching Eliot for an extended period of time. “That would be more than okay with me,” Q said, moving in closer so El could reach him. 

“Good,” Eliot said as he wrapped Quentin in a hug and pressed a soft kiss onto his forehead. As he let go and stepped back, El reached down to take Q’s hand. He made sure to lightly graze his fingertips across Q's palm, remembering how much Quentin had liked that during their first date, then intertwined their fingers and gave his hand a gentle squeeze. 

Q might have been imagining things, but he could’ve sworn that everyone they passed was noticing them together. As they walked across campus, he felt equal parts excited and self-conscious as he wondered what the other students were thinking. Then, he remembered that Eliot had mentioned having some kind of idea and everyone around them suddenly became a lot less important. 

“Are we going anywhere in particular?" Quentin asked, unable to wipe the smile from his face. El's hands were so soft and he'd touched them before, but now people were  _watching_ him touch them and that took it to a whole new level. 

"I had... an idea," Eliot said, hesitating for a second and weighing how exactly to phrase this. "It might not be your thing, but hear me out and feel free to tell me no." 

Q stopped walking for a second once they didn't have as many people around them, looking up into Eliot's eyes and finding a wild mix of mischief and nervousness. Eliot had amazingly expressive eyes. 

El took a breath and leaned in closer to Q so he wouldn't be overheard, then spoke quietly. "I wanted to talk to you about last night, what happened under the table." 

"Uh, erm - _okay_ ," Quentin tried to swallow the huge lump forming in his throat. That familiar warmness crept across his cheeks and he broke eye contact with El, turning his face a little so he could hear him. Q was suddenly pretty nervous too. Had that been too much? He wanted Eliot to be able to tell him when he was uncomfortable, but Quentin had a considerably more fragile ego than El did. And on top of that, he was now thinking about how good that had felt and that added in a whole other layer of head-spinning. 

Eliot smiled. He enjoyed how quickly Q started squirming in reaction to the things he said to him. "You were so eager for me to touch you right where anyone could see," El said, just loudly enough for Quentin to hear him. "I know you get in your own way sometimes when it comes to letting yourself feel amazing, but the threat of being caught seemed to - distract you from whatever usually goes on in your head when we get too close." 

_Holy shit_. He was _right_. "I - I hadn't thought about it that way before," Q said softly. He took a deep breath, then found the courage to press El to continue. "What did you have in mind?” he asked, just barely loud enough for Eliot to hear him. 

Licking his lips, El paused for a second, trying to guess whether this would be something Quentin would go for. Last minute bets, anyone? "I set up some rudimentary wards in one of the stacks in the back of the Brakebills library. No one would be able to see or hear us, within reason," Eliot drawled quietly up against Quentin's ear, hinting that they would still need to stay on the quiet side. "I thought maybe I could take you up there and... touch you a little. Just to get things going. What do you think?" 

Q squeezed his eyes tightly shut. God, he was _so_ curious about what that would feel like. 

"Words, dear," El reminded him gently, holding back a laugh. 

Opening his eyes again, Quentin turned to look back at Eliot with just the most desperate, panicked look. He took a breath. "I'm kind of - surprised that I really want to? God, El, _I want you so bad_ ," Q said quickly, tripping all over his words and squeaking out the last sentence, but managing to make just enough sense. "Can we go right now?" 

Eliot leaned in and pressed his lips against his, so pleased that he was frankly unable to resist, then he lightly bit Quentin's lower lip before he pulled away. "Come on," El said, breaking into a bit of a run and tugging Q by the hand toward the library with a huge grin on his face. 

-

Once they were inside the Brakebills library, they stopped talking to keep from calling attention to themselves. This wasn’t difficult for Quentin, who was too overwhelmed with jittery anticipation to even begin to think about what to say. Eliot slowed his pace to a confident power walk and moved with purpose into the stacks. 

When they reached one of the sections farther back, El let go of Q’s hand for a second so he could check the marker on the end of one particular shelf against a wall. Satisfied that he’d found the right one, he ducked into that row and began tutting a sort of password spell that would let them walk through the wards. Quentin followed, but a few steps in, Eliot completely disappeared and Q was caught totally off-guard. 

Quentin waited for a second to see if everything was okay. “Eliot?” he whispered. 

A disembodied hand reached out past the ward, held out for Quentin to take. Q jumped again, breathed a sigh of relief when he recognized the rings and realized it was El, then grabbed hold and found himself being pulled through the invisible wall. 

Once inside, Quentin could see the rest of Eliot again. Things looked and felt  _almost_ normal in here, with the occasional dim line of light tracing back and forth across the otherwise unnoticeable places where the wards around them stood. 

Q expected for it to sound quieter in here, but he could still tell that students were studying a few yards away. 

“Can they hear us?” Quentin whispered as he looked around, curiously studying their surroundings. 

Eliot was leaning up against the bookshelf on one side of the space with a pleased smile on his face. Q’s sense of awe and love for magic were so wonderful that he had to take a moment to enjoy the sight. 

“Not if we stay _relatively_ quiet,” El spoke back, at a higher volume than Q was expecting. In comparison to the sound of pages turning and an occasional cough from the folks nearby, it felt like a bit of a yell and Quentin immediately looked through a gap in the other shelf to see if they would react. They didn’t even look up from their work. 

When Q turned back around to look at Eliot, his face said everything. Quentin  _wanted_ this, whatever _this_ was. It scared him just enough to excite him. He swallowed, taking in the tall drink of water standing across from him, then slowly stepped closer. 

In Eliot’s mind, this plan began with a bit more of a negotiation. He wasn’t sure just how far Q would want to take it and El had assumed there would be more questions or that he’d need to comfort his partner somehow. But when El saw Quentin moving towards him with what could only be described as a newly acquired sense of _power_ , Eliot decided to let Q have total control over the situation. He trusted him wholeheartedly. 

Q reached up to take Eliot’s face into his hands. He looked into El’s eyes, brushed his thumb across his cheek, then stood up as tall as he could and kissed him full on the mouth. Eliot opened up to him immediately, leaning down and sliding his arms around Q’s back to pull him closer. 

It was so quiet in the library that they could hear each other’s heavy breaths and the gentle sounds their mouths were making. Every tiny moan or gasp felt much more obvious than usual and it helped them to tune into each other in a way they hadn’t before. 

Quentin lowered his hands, grabbing hold of El’s shoulders so he could maneuver him just enough to switch places with him. He flipped around, then backed into the shelf that stood against the library’s stone wall, leaning his head on the books behind him. Q had liked the way this felt last night, being pressed into a wall and kissed senselessly. “Push me,” Q breathed out, pulling Eliot up against him. 

Obliging, Eliot leaned his body weight into Q and kissed him harder. Hearing Quentin ask so easily for what he wanted was like music to his ears and it made El want him even more. This _boy_. He slid one hand up behind Q’s head and gently held the back of his neck as he tasted him. 

“Can I touch you?” Eliot whispered into Q’s mouth, hoping that they could continue what they’d started the night before. 

Quentin felt a hot sense of yearning in the pit of his stomach. He knew he was ready this time and moaned a loaded, affirmative “Mmmhmm,” into the kiss. 

Eliot couldn’t help smiling, which temporarily stopped him from kissing Q. He playfully nipped at Quentin’s lip as he moved to the side just a bit and guided his hand down Q’s body. Over his chest, down his stomach, and finally settling between his legs. And when El gave his crotch a long, gentle rub over his clothes, Q let out a surprised puff of air and then practically mewled like a cat. 

As his skilled hand slowly increased the level of pressure, Eliot leaned in and kissed Quentin’s neck. He wanted to hear every noise Q made as he pushed against him. 

Meanwhile, Quentin’s heart was pounding and he closed his eyes. He breathed deeply and concentrated on the feeling of Eliot’s hand sliding up and down, creating pleasant friction against the fabric of his black jeans. 

El kissed a path upwards until he reached high enough to trace a line along the outer shell of Quentin's ear with his tongue. Eliot knew how beautifully sensitive this particular spot was for Q and had made a mental note to give it plenty of attention. 

And that’s when Eliot finally began to feel Q hardening under his hand, giving an occasional twitch. El grinned, experiencing a bit of relief at the thought that he was at least a little closer to figuring out what Quentin needed to feel good. There were so many things he wanted to show him, but he wanted him to be fully on board first and this was certainly a big step in that direction. 

“That’s it, Q. You’re getting so hard for me,” he happily growled into Quentin’s ear. Of course, Q knew this, but hearing Eliot say it drove him further into the feelings coursing through him. 

One of those feelings was the unfortunate tightness of his jeans, which reminded Q that their location, as fun as it was, would eventually require them to stop before things got too far. He suddenly wished that they were in the comfort of Eliot’s bed and that they wouldn’t have to travel quite so far to get there. 

Proving that he was already pretty in-tune with Quentin’s needs, Eliot whispered, “Let me know when you want to get out of here,” and pressed a soft kiss to the corner of Q’s mouth. 

With a bit of a whimper, Quentin tried to make words happen despite how distracted he was by the pleasure radiating from between his legs. “Ahh um, probably soon? But just, can I - here,” Q said, then in a moment of absolute need that took over how self-conscious he usually was, Quentin fumbled to unbuckle his own belt and open up the front of his jeans. 

“Shit,” Eliot spit out, kind of in awe of what Q was doing. He paused for a second, trying to meet Quentin’s eyes with his own, then asked, “Is this okay?” as he pulled his hand back a little, motioning that he was about to reach in there. 

As soon as Quentin looked up at him, nodding feverishly, Eliot slid his hand into the waistband of Q’s underwear and took hold of his erection. 

When he felt Eliot’s warm palm finally making direct contact with such a private, sensitive place, Q let out another moan that sounded almost like a laugh. He couldn’t believe what this felt like, having El’s hand wrapped around him. 

“Can I take you back to my room?” Eliot whispered sweetly, pushing up against the bookcase and gently stroking Q’s dick inside his clothes. 

Quentin swallowed. “I wish we didn’t have to stop,” he squeaked. 

“Would it help if I told you what I’d want to do to you if we go back there?” Eliot asked as he touched him so slowly, hoping that the idea would entice Quentin enough to move him somewhere less risky. This was a lot and he wanted to make sure that he looked out for Q. 

Quentin could only manage to say, _“Fuck. Please?”_

He was so goddamned polite. 

El leaned in to kiss his mouth, then pulled back just a bit so he could lay small kisses all over Q’s face between sentences. “I want to undress you, piece by piece. I want to see all of you in broad daylight, to find out if you look the way I’ve imagined. I want to crawl into my bed with you and hold you close. Then, when there’s nothing left between us and I can feel your bare skin against me, I want you to tell me exactly how you want me to make you come,” Eliot said so clearly and confidently, not once stopping the careful motion of his hand in Q’s jeans. 

Quentin’s heavily lidded eyes suddenly snapped open. “Well, what the fuck are we waiting for? How do we get out of this thing?!” 


	10. Buttons

The door to the Physical Kids’ cottage burst open and Eliot led the way inside. Quentin was hot on his tail, letting El pull him by the hand and clutching his messenger bag tightly against his front. 

Luckily, the place seemed pretty empty and they thought they might make it upstairs without getting interrupted when - 

“El, there you are!” Margo said, getting up from the couch around the corner and heading towards the door. “We don’t have early classes tomorrow and I was thinking we could go out tonight, get dinner or something,” she added, slowly realizing what she had interrupted once she got close enough to take in the scene in front of her. 

Eliot’s eyes darted from the staircase to Margo, struggling over what to do for a second before stopping short, which caused Quentin to run right into him. Luckily, Q was small so he just kind of bounced back rather than knocking Eliot off-balance. 

“Bambi, now’s _not_ a great time,” El said apologetically, tilting his head towards a furiously blushing Quentin who quickly ducked to hide behind him. 

Margo was clearly trying to hold back her disappointment, but after a fleeting moment of softness, she hardened. “Fine. Another night then,” she offered succinctly, sent an unmistakably angry glare at an unsuspecting piece of art on the wall, then turned on her heels and went back to the living room. 

After pausing for just a second, Eliot cursed under his breath then turned to Q and put a hand on his shoulder. “I need to go talk to her. Can I meet you upstairs? Don’t start without me,” El said quietly, giving Q a wink. 

“Yeah, um, okay,” Quentin said, clearing his throat, feeling a wonderful warmth deep inside when Eliot leaned in to kiss his cheek. When El let go of him and walked away, Q wobbled slightly in an attempt to regain his balance. Then, he took hold of the banister and walked up the stairs to the second floor of the cottage. 

By the time he reached Eliot’s bedroom door, Quentin could hear the yelling. Guilt was steadily replacing his feelings of embarrassment as he realized why Margo had been giving him those angry glances at the dinner party. The glorious week he’d been spending with Eliot, he realized, must have been at the expense of the time that El usually spent with Margo. They had been practically inseparable from the moment he'd met them and Q had somehow managed to separate them without even realizing it. 

Quentin felt increasingly terrible as he let himself inside. He didn’t have a great read on Margo, who consistently fed off of his embarrassment but who also seemed to care about him. While he did consider her to be a friend, he was well aware of the possibility that she could make his life a living hell if she wanted to. Before he even noticed, Eliot was standing in the doorway, watching Quentin pace awkwardly back and forth across the room. 

“Hey, is she...” Q began asking once he realized that he was no longer alone, snapping out of his spiral and bringing his nervous movement to a halt. 

“We talked it out, she’ll be fine, I’ve just been a shitty friend to her this week,” Eliot said as he walked into the bedroom and clicked the door shut behind him. He looked pretty upset but Q noticed that he was already making an effort to tuck those emotions away. 

“I don’t want her to hate me,” Quentin admitted, still clutching onto his messenger bag. He didn’t really need to use it as a shield anymore, but its presence was sort of comforting. El noticed the way Q was hiding and just a hint of a smile crept up into the corner of his mouth. 

Crossing the room in two long strides, Eliot gently took hold of the bag’s strap and lifted it over Quentin’s head, taking care not to get it caught in his hair. “I’m going to make it up to her tomorrow; you’ll have to miss me for a day since I promised I’d be all hers,” Eliot said, finding that the smiles came easier now that he was close to Q again. He dropped the messenger bag up against the wall and let his eyes take in the current physical state of his boyfriend, noting how disheveled Quentin looked after dragging him halfway across campus with a hard-on and a pretty intense picture in his mind. 

“Okay. I’ll - I’ll um. See what Jules is up to… _hi_ ,” Quentin’s heart was racing, seeing the way Eliot was looking at him. A full-on shiver coursed through Q even though he was trying not to move. Quentin  _wanted_ Eliot to look at him like that, but he thought back to what El had said before they left the library and the idea of Eliot doing this _without_ clothes made it so difficult for him to stay still. 

El dragged his fingertips up Quentin’s arm, then gripped his shoulder and took a step closer. He teased Q, letting his mouth hover just above his, then he whispered, “Hi. Are you still in the mood for this?” 

Answering questions was hard. Standing still while Eliot Waugh looked you up and down like a delicious meal was hard. But leaning forward and kissing Eliot like they’d been apart for days, not just minutes - right now, that was easy. So that’s what Quentin did. 

Eliot couldn’t get enough of the ways Q kept surprising him. He staggered a little in response, then went back in for more once he was firmly back on both feet. And when El’s hands reached out and found Quentin’s sides, pulling him closer, he grabbed hold of the shirt under his hands and wished that it would disappear. 

Since that wasn’t quite how the disrobing spells worked (at least not the ones Eliot knew) and he wanted to make sure Quentin was fully onboard first, El pulled back and looked into Q’s eyes. “Can I undress you?” he asked in that gorgeous, low voice of his. 

And Q _whimpered_. His body was simultaneously screaming for more contact while making him shake and stutter. “ _I want you to_ ,” Quentin said softly, “- but I uh, I’m n-nervous.” 

El, who was kind of expecting this, leaned in and nuzzled Quentin’s cheek, then took a step back before he walked over to the bed and sat down. Then, he gently patted the spot next to him with the hope that Q would join him. 

Without even a hint of hesitation, Quentin immediately followed him over. He knew that he absolutely wanted to be close to Eliot, even if everything else felt unknown and scary at the moment. 

El, who was pretty damn glad to have Q sitting next to him, leaned up against his side. “Do you feel comfortable talking to me about it?” Eliot asked. 

Quentin swallowed. Right. Communication. “I’m - not - confident about, um, being _naked_ around other people,” he said, looking straight ahead at Eliot’s chest since he didn’t have the courage for much else. “I don’t want you to be disappointed, when you, you know, see me. And I, um, I know you’ve had more experience and I’m - I want it to be good for you, whatever we do next?” 

Eliot listened so intently until Q was done. “Thank you for telling me,” he said, then he reached over to brush Quentin’s hair behind his air. His hair was always so shiny and smooth. 

Once he had taken a second to figure out what to do with that information, El reached over and took Quentin’s hand. Opening his mouth, he took a deep breath, then he shared some options. “If you aren’t ready, that’s 100% fine. We can do something you’re more comfortable with instead or just put it off for another time,” he suggested. “Or…” 

Q looked up into Eliot’s eyes when he dropped off, his curiosity taking over his worry. “Or what?” Quentin asked. Despite all of the insecurities fighting for his attention, Q found himself _wanting_ to let Eliot take his clothes off. 

Leaning in, El brushed his lips up against Quentin’s ear and whispered, “What if I go first?” Eliot picked up Q’s hand and brought it to the first button on his vest. 

As Quentin considered the new option, his cheeks burned. It was kind of brilliant in its simplicity, really. He would probably worry less if he had a gorgeous, naked distraction in front of him. And this way, he wouldn’t be alone in his vulnerability. 

Q traced his thumb around that button and decided that he really, really wanted to undo it. He cleared his throat, then brought himself to ask, “Can I?” 

“Fuck yes,” Eliot said, letting go and putting his hands down so Q could have full control. 

Quentin swallowed, taking a second to regain his courage, then he went to work undoing every button he could find. After tossing aside his vest, he impatiently started on the button-up. “Shit, Eliot. Why do you wear so many layers with buttons?” he laughed, trying to work as quickly as he could. 

“So I can be thoroughly entertained by watching you struggle to get them off, clearly,” Eliot grinned, then he reached up to help. 

Quentin playfully shooed his hand away. “Nope, I’ve got this, Waugh. I’m practically an expert at undoing buttons now,” he joked. 

“You know, there’s a spell -“ 

With that, Q pressed his mouth to Eliot’s to quiet him down. The timing was great since he had just finished unbuttoning the shirt. Then, he reluctantly broke away from the kiss so he could help El's arms out of their sleeves and pull the undershirt up over his head. 

Once El’s various shirt-related layers were gone, Quentin slid his hands up Eliot’s chest and over his shoulders, loving the feeling of El’s bare skin against his palms. 

Next, Q sat on the floor next to the bed so he could remove Eliot’s shoes and socks, scrambling to do so as quickly as he could. He stood up, fumbled with Eliot’s belt, unzipped his pants, and slid them down his long, lean legs before dropping them on the floor. The whole time, Eliot watched, looking at Q with unmistakeable fondness. 

Quentin took a step back, then reached out for Eliot’s hands. “Up,” he said simply. 

By the time Eliot grabbed hold and let Q pull him off of the bed, he was pretty worked up. For someone who really liked dressing himself, he got pretty excited to have someone undressing him. And Quentin did this the same way he did everything else; with a lot of eagerness and a bit of trouble. El couldn’t get enough of it. 

Now that the two of them were standing, Q took a minute to look up into Eliot’s eyes, his heart leaping into his throat when he found him already staring back. Then, El moved Quentin’s hands, which he was still holding, down to his remaining piece of clothing. 

Q didn’t break eye contact as he tucked his thumbs into the waistband of El’s underwear and pulled them down. Eliot helped them off the rest of the way, kicking them aside. 

“Ready for your turn?” Eliot asked, now totally naked and totally ready to take control so he could move things along. 

Quentin nodded, still not daring to glance down. He was already pretty familiar with Eliot’s dick after that blowjob earlier in the week, but something about taking in the whole picture was too much for him at the moment. 

Satisfied with that answer, Eliot began slowly and deliberately taking Q apart. He was almost methodical about it, treating Quentin like the precious gift he was and unwrapping him with care. 

Eventually, El broke the silence. “You know, I won’t be offended if you check me out,” he reminded Q gently as he tugged his t-shirt over his head. “I might even like it,” he added. 

“Yeah?” Q asked, gathering up some courage. 

“Mmhmm,” Eliot said, twisting to toss the shirt to the side. He turned back to find that Quentin was finally raking his eyes up and down El’s gorgeous body. Eliot was thin and pale and long in _every_ sense of the word and Q just couldn’t believe that this beautiful man was his. 

“Thoughts?” El asked, thoroughly enjoying this. 

“You’re incredible,” Quentin stated. 

Eliot let the hint of a smile collect at the corner of his mouth, then he went back to work, sliding Q’s pants down to reveal bite-able thighs and muscular calves. El couldn’t stop himself from touching Quentin's bare skin along the way, running his hands all over him and laying sweet kisses on the particularly delicious-looking spots that he just couldn’t resist. 

The whole time, Quentin tried to concentrate on his breathing, sneaking occasional glances down at the frankly magical things El was doing to him. Once he’d gotten started, his nervous anxiety melted away and was immediately replaced with tingly, warm, wonderful feelings instead. Eliot was good at this and before Q knew it, all of his clothes were on the floor. 

El slowly stood back up wearing nothing but a satisfied grin on his face. After looking Quentin in the eye and noting that he seemed to be in a positive headspace at the moment, Eliot dropped his gaze and began to take in the compact, adorable body in front of him. Q really was hiding quite a few wonderful surprises under those comfy sweaters and hoodies and El was delighted. 

Then, Eliot snaked his arms around Q’s middle, pulling him closer. His eyes fluttered closed as he leaned in for another kiss and Quentin enthusiastically met him halfway. 

When they pulled away for air, Quentin caught his breath and then huffed out the word, “Bed?”. Eliot nodded and helped Q climb under the silky covers, joining him soon after and wrapping him up in his arms. 

Laying a kiss in Q’s hair and placing a hand on his bare back, El began to speak. “I know there’s some bullshit quote about needing to hear ten good things about yourself before you can erase one bad thing, and I don’t know how many bad things made you feel this way about your body, but I like you and I would like to say some nice shit about you now. Is that okay?” 

If there were one thing that always melted Q into a puddle, it was receiving genuine compliments from Eliot. He was already in a pretty intense state of arousal, but being this vulnerable in front of someone who meant so much to him just dialed it up even higher. Inhaling deeply in an attempt to calm himself down, Quentin squeaked, “Okay.” 

“Can I touch you?” Eliot double-checked. 

Q nodded immediately. 

At that, El smiled. He leaned in and kissed Quentin’s forehead, then brought his hand up to brush Q’s hair back away from his face. “You’re so beautiful, Quentin. Every inch of you. I can’t get enough of your smile and these fucking dimples.” As Eliot spoke, he traced his hand through Q’s chest hair, then slowly moved it down over his tummy. “I don’t know when you manage to find time to exercise on top of everything else but you have this tight, wonderful body and it’s driving me up the wall to be this close to you now that I know what you were hiding,” he continued. “And God, your hair. I already knew how soft and touchable it was, but down here...” Eliot practically grunted as his fingers reached Q’s happy trail just below his belly button and followed it down even lower. “And this…” he whispered as his hand rediscovered its earlier position around Q’s dick. 

Feelings of simultaneous arousal and inadequacy suddenly flooded through Quentin, who was blushing furiously. He looked away for a second and tried to focus on how amazing Eliot’s hand felt. “I know it’s… smaller than yours,” he said awkwardly, feeling like he needed to call attention to the obvious. 

“Quentin Coldwater, don’t you dare feel bad about that,” he scolded. "It’s perfect. And Q, it feels so _good_.” Eliot cooed, sliding his hand up and down its velvety length and taking delight in Quentin's sudden sharp intake of breath. 

“Basically, you’re hot as hell, I’m so glad you’re here with me, and I would like to have sex with you now if that’s okay,” Eliot tied up his monologue with a touch of desperation in his voice. 

Quentin was so worked up that he flat-out shivered. “So much more than okay, El,” he moaned as Eliot moved in to kiss him again, gently at first, while he continued to stroke him. 

“Should I keep going like this? Tell me how you want me. I want to make you come so badly,” Eliot drawled into Q’s mouth, punctuating the question with a gentle bite on Q’s bottom lip. 

If Eliot hadn’t teased this question at the library earlier, Quentin would not have been able to answer. How was he supposed to _choose_? But after giving it some time, Q had a chance to weigh the options (at least the ones he could think of). 

Quentin pulled back from the kiss and took a deep breath. “I want to try _everything_ with you, El. I know I’m - I’m probably going to be new to a couple of things, but I. I _trust_ you,” Q stated as calmly as he could, watching as Eliot practically melted at his words. “But for now, um, can you - with - your mouth?” 

“I can,” Eliot responded, giving Q a smile and a kiss on the lips before he dove down under the covers. 

From the moment that it started, Quentin was in complete shock over how incredible Eliot’s mouth felt. The truth was, Q had never even come close to feeling this way before. Maybe it was that he was fully head-over-heels smitten with Eliot, maybe it was that they had taken the time to get comfortable with one another so Quentin wasn’t spending the whole time worrying, or maybe it was that El really fucking knew what he was doing. Likely, it was a combination of the three. 

At the time, Quentin was completely sure that he would remember every single detail of this. He couldn’t stop thinking about it for days afterward and the memories were so vivid and detailed. But years later, when he recalled what had happened, it came together in his mind a bit more like this. 

Quentin briefly regretting his request when he realized that the cuddling had to end for a little while. 

Eliot wrapping his hands around Quentin’s thighs and squeezing them gently. 

Quentin immediately realizing that this was actually a fucking great decision when he felt Eliot’s hot, wet mouth around his cock. 

Eliot stopping for a few seconds so he could remind Quentin to make plenty of noise. “I want to hear how good it feels,” he said. 

Quentin being especially shocked by one trick that El tested on him and yelling out, “Jesus, Eliot. Holy fucking shit.” 

Eliot feeling especially smug, knowing that Quentin is absolutely losing his mind. 

Quentin knowing that he didn’t need to give Eliot any direction but doing it anyway, exactly once, when El’s tongue got incredibly close to a particularly sensitive spot. 

Eliot taking note of the request, pretending not to know what Quentin was asking for, teasing until Q could barely hold it together anymore, then going in to lick exactly the right place, resulting in a sensation that caused Quentin to mewl like a cat. 

Quentin confirming that “Yeah, yep, you got it,” once he regained his composure, just in case Eliot couldn’t tell. 

Eliot multitasking and letting his hands wander to places where he suspected Quentin would like it. 

Quentin bucking his hips up off of the mattress without warning because, well, he did like it very much. 

Eliot handling it like a champ because, well, he was pretty much expecting that response. 

Quentin apologizing profusely. 

Eliot being an absolute dreamboat and making sure that the surprise poke in the bumhole was okay in the sexiest way possible. 

Quentin muttering an extremely affirmative string of expletives in response. 

Eliot bringing Q close to the edge, again and again, wanting it to be even better for him when he finally lets him finish. 

Quentin completely and fully trusting him, closing his eyes and breathing through it every time. 

Eliot giving Quentin an orgasm so good that he forgot his own name. 

-

“Q, I promise, you don’t have to get me back tonight. You can rest,” Eliot laughed after an incredibly wrecked, happy, and sleepy Quentin snuggled up close to him and reached between El’s legs. 

“I can cuddle and do this at the same time,” Quentin mumbled. “Unless you want me to stop?”

Eliot wrapped his arms around Q and started petting his long hair. “Oh, no complaints from me as long as you go easy on yourself, dear.” 

A smiley, exhausted Q laid his head on El’s chest, letting out a tiny, “Yay” before closing his eyes. 

“You are so fucking cute,” Eliot remarked out loud, almost in disbelief. If he thought Quentin was adorable before, seeing him post-orgasm, naked, and trying to give Eliot a very sweet and well-intentioned handjob just totally redefined the term. 

Then, Q said something reminiscent of “Right back atcha” but with fewer consonants. 

They laid there in silence for a few moments. Quentin’s hand was actually starting to feel pretty good, considering that he may have started drooling on Eliot. 

“We’re hosting another party here on Friday night. Can I make you drinks and flaunt you on my arm?” he asked, managing to speak pretty eloquently even though he was starting to get pretty hot and bothered. 

“Of _course_ ,” Quentin replied so softly, as if he were surprised that Eliot even had to ask. “I’m _yours_ , El.”  

And Eliot’s heart melted. 


	11. Hiccup

 Quentin spent the rest of the week unable to remove the smile from his face. No matter how intense his classes became, no matter how much of an asshole his roommate was, he had Eliot. The day could always get better because he knew that he could run into El who would absolutely turn his mood around. He was practically floating on a cloud. 

There was something truly wonderful about being on the other side of this particular relationship hurdle. Even though Q had desperately wanted what Eliot had given him, he had built it up in his mind for so long and developed so much anxiety around it that it felt incredibly freeing to have finally done it. And on top of that, he now had a fantastic picture in his head of what Eliot looked like without his carefully arranged layers of clothing and _that_ could get him through even the most boring lecture. 

By the time Friday night had arrived, Quentin was ready to take on the Physical Kids’ party with a newfound sense of confidence. 

Eliot had planned to run out to a liquor store before everyone arrived, but when Quentin offered to come along and help, El declined. He would’ve loved the company but this was an errand that required a certain level of focus and Eliot preferred to go alone. Instead, Quentin headed over to the cottage early to see if there was anyone else he could assist with party prep. 

Todd had been assigned to door duty, mostly on his own accord, because nobody else could be bothered to answer it and he hadn’t been trusted with any other tasks. “Quentin! Everyone’s getting ready for the party. Come in!” Todd said excitedly when Q arrived.  

Stepping inside, Quentin said, “Hey Todd! Is there anything I can help with?"

Todd seemed surprised by the question. “Oh! Um, well, they won’t let me touch anything but I’m sure there’s someone around who could use an extra pair of hands,” he said, nervously backing himself into the wall which caused him to accidentally knock down a charming piece of art that was hanging there. Todd jumped a little, then spun around and tried to put it back before anyone noticed. 

Q raised his eyebrows, still not sure what to do about the whole Todd situation. “Well, thanks anyway. It’s good to see you, Todd!” Quentin said as he started to walk away, trying to be as genuinely kind as he could. But before Quentin could feel too badly about how someone so nice could be so widely disliked, Margo ran by with an armful of party supplies and Q remembered one particular reason why he had chosen to arrive early despite the lack of Eliot. 

“Margo! Can I help you with those?” Quentin said, following after her. He picked up something that she had dropped and brought it over to her in the living room. 

Taking a quick look at Quentin, Margo considered her options, then started handing him some decorations. “You know what, yeah. Can you hang these up?” she asked. Her expression was cold, clearly focused on preparing for the party and possibly still a tiny bit upset that Quentin was taking up too much space in Eliot’s heart. 

For a few minutes, Quentin did his best to follow Margo’s directions and made himself as useful as he could. Perhaps his slightly clumsy magic wasn’t as helpful as hers in this particular situation, but he could certainly hold up the other end of the fairy lights while Margo used a spell to secure them to the ceiling. 

“I wanted to talk to you about what happened the other day,” he said, seemingly out of nowhere, as they sat down on the couch to sort through a box of smaller decorations she had brought down from the attic. 

“Quentin,” Margo warned sternly as she continued to unpack the box, pulling out what looked like wine charms and placing them on the coffee table for now. 

He felt a lot of pressure to say the right thing and to get his point across before she shut down the conversation entirely, so of course, that task suddenly became the most difficult thing for him to do. “I - I - well, um, you see - can you just stop doing that and look at me for a second?” Quentin became frustrated, more with his lack of eloquence than with Margo, and he briefly snapped. 

Margo paused her current task and looked up. Q could tell that she was devastatingly close to giving him an eye roll, but at least he had her attention. Taking in a quick breath, Quentin wet his lips and tried again. “Eliot. He means an awful lot to you, doesn’t he?” 

“Well yeah, even Todd could've told you that,” Margo responded as if Q had just asked for an answer that was written on the wall behind her in neon lights. 

Q thought about bailing on this entire plan, but he knew that if they were going to be interacting in the same space for the foreseeable future, they needed to work out whatever residual negativity was hovering in the air around them. 

“Are you two - “ Quentin kind of waved in the air, hoping he wouldn’t have to say anything too uncomfortable out loud. 

“That could mean literally anything, Q,” Margo said, nearly groaning when Quentin continued to look at her like she was supposed to interpret his hand-waving. “If you’re asking if El and I are fucking, you’re in for a very long and complicated explanation that I’m honestly not sure I can provide.” 

“So I’m guessing that means you’re not now, but before El and I got together - “

“We’ve had earth-shatteringly amazing but shockingly platonic sex. El and I are devastatingly attractive, sexual beings, and we have needs. Sue us,” Margo stated a little too loudly for Quentin’s comfort level. 

Quentin paused. He had kind of assumed that something physical was going on between them, given the way they couldn’t keep their hands off of each other. Otherwise, he was quite confused about what their entire deal was and whether the situations he had witnessed were just about teaming up to bring home whichever enthusiastically willing participant they both found attractive. Clearly, he had missed something that was meant just for the two of them, and honestly, he was okay with that. “Do you love him?” he asked quietly. 

“Of course I do. Does that upset you?” Margo asked, taking her whole demeanor down a couple of notches. 

Q thought for a second. “No?” he said softly. He still wasn’t completely sure what that meant. He was beginning to sense that Eliot and Margo had a friendship that couldn’t be defined in black and white. 

“Look, Quentin,” she said, finally turning towards him on the couch and looking directly at him. He briefly worried that he might disintegrate or become frozen solid, but then her gaze softened. “Eliot understands me on a level that no one else ever has. He is my _soulmate_. Without him, I am just a cold-hearted bitch who everyone is at least mildly afraid of. When hardly else anyone wants to talk to me or even hug me without a goal of getting in my bed for the night, I worry that no one will ever want to. So when he suddenly wants to spend all of his time with someone else, I start to forget that I am more than that,” she stated plainly. 

He didn’t know what to say. “Um, I - I can hug you, if you - “ 

“It’s _really_ okay, Q,” she interrupted, trying not to laugh. “To tell you the truth, I may have scared away a few of El’s boyfriends in the past. I know how much you mean to him, and I am trying my hardest to give you space so that doesn’t happen again. But Q, I can’t just stay away from him forever.  _He is all I have._ ” 

For someone who usually tried to convince the world that she didn’t do _feelings_ , Margo certainly knew how to look directly into your eyes and make you not just believe, but root for whatever she had to say. 

Quentin turned a thought over in his mind, considering it for a few seconds. “You - you don’t _have_ to keep your distance. I don’t want to completely take over Eliot’s whole life. I’m not the kind of person who needs all of someone’s attention to feel secure. So just, open invitation to spend time with us when you want to tag along,” he held his hands out, then realized maybe that was too much and added, “As long as you, you know, read the room and give us some time alone once in a while. And if El is okay with you touching him, so am I.”

If you had blinked, you wouldn’t have been able to tell that Margo’s eyes were starting to water because within a second, she had blinked it away. If you did notice, she might have blamed it on Josh cutting onions for the pico de gallo. 

Instead of pointing it out, Q chose to continue. “Anyway, I’m still not sure if you even like me, but if you need a friend, I’m here. Sure, you’re - a little intimidating, and maybe it isn’t my favorite thing when you have such a great time embarrassing the shit out of me in front of everyone, but I do like having you around, Margo.” 

For just a second, however quickly it went away, Margo let out a real, honest-to-God, happy smile. And with that, she got up from the couch and smacked him on the leg. “Come on Coldwater, help me with the rest of these.” 

-

Later that night, Quentin found himself curled up with Eliot on the couch. Eliot was burying his hand in Q’s hair and massaging his scalp with his fingertips. And since Quentin had now fully settled into the idea that this was his reality and that he could enjoy El’s physical affection as much as he damn well pleased, he was basically responding like a fucking puppy, bouncing his leg, closing his eyes, and melting into putty on the couch. 

At some point, Margo joyfully shouted “Move over!” and made plenty of space for herself on Eliot’s other side before she flawlessly jumped into the ambient conversation. El wrapped his other arm around her, then gave Q a break from the utter bliss of the scalp massage. He returned his hand to Quentin’s shoulder so Q could catch his breath and go back to chatting with Julia, who was perched on a floor pillow near his feet. 

“So did you two ever hook up, or was Q just silently pining through your teenage years?” Margo asked, noticing how easy things were between Quentin and Julia, who had quickly picked up their talk right where they’d left off. 

“No.” “Well?” they replied at the same time, quickly looking at each other in a mild panic when they realized they had regrettably been caught without getting their story straight. 

“SPILL IT,” Eliot demanded immediately with a huge smile, letting out a laugh when Quentin started burying his face in El's side. Quite frankly, Q hoped that he would disappear into the couch. 

Julia, who had given the slight indication that something had actually happened between them, felt like it was her fault and accepted the burden of filling everyone in. “It wasn’t a big deal. We were at a cast party after the 8th grade play, everyone was playing spin the bottle, and when it was my turn, the bottle landed on him,” Jules said, trying to be as kind as she could. 

“Boring,” Margo commented, giving up. 

Eliot sat up. “Now wait just a second, Bambi. If I know Q, I _know_ that wasn’t the end of the story. How was the kiss.” And there was Eliot again, refusing to end his questions with the classic upturn that told you that you had a say in whether or not you’d have to answer it. 

Jules took a second. “Come on, Eliot. You know Q’s a good kisser,” she said, trying to give her best friend a break. 

“It was bad, wasn’t it.” Margo pressed. 

“UGH you guys,” Quentin sat up and covered his eyes with his hands, unable to take it anymore. “Fine, fine, I hiccuped while I was kissing her and… I may have startled her. Slightly,” he admitted. 

“Wait, you - “ Eliot started. 

“And then I jumped backwards and accidentally stepped on another player,” Julia reluctantly continued the story. 

“- who needed crutches for about a week while his ankle recovered,” Q finished. 

Everyone laughed and even Quentin had to admit in hindsight that it probably couldn’t have been a more awkward first kiss story. 

-

“So I’ve been meaning to ask all night,” Eliot said as he walked Quentin across campus to his dorm. Margo had taken someone up to her room and Q mentioned that he was getting sleepy, so they headed off alone. “After the hiccup kiss, it was your turn to spin the bottle, right? Who did it land on after you?” 

Q squeezed Eliot’s hand, enjoying the cool night air and not really minding this conversation when it was just him and El. “Well, um, you know. After that person who’d been stepped on got some medical attention, we went back to the game. There was... this guy,” 

“A guy! Tell me more,” Eliot said excitedly. 

Quentin blushed as they walked. “He was cute, one of the lead actors. I don’t think he was too horrified by it? It _was_ a cast party. The kiss was actually kind of nice? Short. His lips were soft. No resulting injuries.” 

“Was that your -” 

“First kiss with a guy, yeah,” Q smiled, thinking back to it. Nothing more happened between them after that, but again, something about getting past that milestone was a relief for 13-year-old Quentin. There had always been a certain amount of pressure around things like that, and Q’s brain rarely handled them with finesse. “How about you? How old were you?” 

Eliot cleared his throat and spoke really quietly without moving his mouth very much. “I was nineteen.” 

“Seriously?” Q was honestly not expecting that answer. Eliot was so much more experienced and confident with this sort of thing than he was. 

They walked in silence for a few seconds while Eliot considered sharing the part of himself that he desperately worked every day to hide. “Q, there’s something you don’t know about me,” he started, hesitantly. 

Quentin’s nervous instincts led him to start spiraling a bit while he waited to find out what it was. “You can tell me anything,” Q told him gently. 

“This is - far from public information, but here goes. I grew up in Indiana,” Eliot started, resisting the urge to gag as he admitted it out loud. “On... a farm. In just about the most conservative small town you could find.” 

“Wow,” Quentin said. “I mean, given what you said about the bullies -” 

“Just being _me_ was dangerous enough. I wasn’t going to involve someone else in that, no matter how much I wanted to kiss them,” El admitted. “After I graduated, I got out of that hellhole as quickly as I could. Moved to New York, reinvented myself, erased any evidence that I grew up in a homophobic family of people who shoveled literal shit, and became the brilliant, irresistible, and impeccably dressed fellow you see today.” 

“...thank you for telling me,” Q said as they walked up to his building. “You know, you can tell me anything. You can trust me.” 

“I know I can. It’s just - not something I _like_ to talk about if I can avoid it,” Eliot said as he held the door open for Quentin. The light on the front steps felt unnecessarily bright after their eyes had adjusted to the relatively dim walk across campus. 

“Understandable,” Q said. They walked up a flight of stairs and headed down the hall. 

“Anyway, now you know,” El added. “So can I give you a proper goodnight, or -” Eliot playfully nudged Quentin’s shoulder. 

“Fuck,” Q said, stopping in his tracks. 

El smiled, immediately jumping on the opportunity to get even more flirty. “Well, that’s not _quite_ what I meant, but you don’t have to ask _me_ twice -” 

And then Eliot looked down the hall and saw what Quentin was reacting to. There was a sock hanging on the handle of Q’s door. Eliot took the opportunity to investigate as he walked up to the door and waited a moment. Upon hearing for himself that Quentin’s roommate and his partner definitely needed some privacy, he turned around to lock eyes with Quentin, who still stood farther down the hall. “Stay with me,” El said with such incredible fondness that it made Q weak in the knees. 

Quentin, who had come full circle on his current wave of emotions, took a second to recover from his quick flip from frustrated to elated. “Okay, yeah, we can head back. I’ll just crash on a couch; I don’t want to be a burden,” he nodded. 

“No, I mean, you could stay in my bed with me,” El clarified softly, walking back over to Q and tugging on his shirt. “I want you to. Fall asleep in my arms, wake up next to me. You’d get to see some truly miraculous bedhead in the morning, a sight I reserve only for my most trusted companions, then I could make you breakfast...” 

“Really?” Quentin squeaked, looking up at Eliot, who was suddenly touching him in the most innocent ways and who still managed to look well put together and poised even after a full night of partying and walking across campus. 

Eliot leaned his head down to rest his forehead against Quentin’s. “Absolutely. Do you want that?” El asked as one of his gently wandering hands reached up to stroke Quentin’s jawline. 

As his heart started thumping excitedly in his chest, Q beamed up at Eliot. “Yeah, yeah. Um, I’d like that a lot, El.”

-

Quentin got ready for bed in the upstairs bathroom of the Physical Kids’ Cottage once the last of the party guests had gone home. Luckily, Eliot kept a small stock of new toothbrushes specifically for moments like these and Q was happy to claim one and leave it in a cup on the counter for next time. Then, when he quietly stepped down the hall and peered into Eliot’s room, El spotted him and softly said, “Hey, Q. Come here.” 

Eliot was already in bed and he peeled back the covers next to him, revealing the spot he’d left for Quentin. Closing the door behind him, Q heard the latch click into place, shrugged out of his button up, and stepped out of his jeans before climbing in. 

Before Q could worry about what to do with his limbs, Eliot reached across the bed and pulled him close. Quentin was elated and he immediately snuggled in, completely relaxing against Eliot’s tall, lanky form. 

“Mr. Coldwater, what is your stance on cuddling?” Eliot asked. Q could feel El's warm breath on his ear. 

Quentin smiled, all dimples and stubble and more than happy to be surrounded by Eliot. “I am definitely pro cuddle,” he said, clearing his throat and mocking the professional tone in which El had delivered the question. 

“You, sir, are such a nerd,” Eliot said, burying his nose in Quentin’s hair and delighting in his scent as they chuckled over their weird bedtime banter. Once the last of their laughter hung in the air and settled into the quiet, Eliot and his growing sense of curiosity decided that this was as good a time as any to push, maybe just a little. “Are you… still tired?” El tested. 

Well, he was, but _you_ try telling his erection that. Quentin answered by leaning in and nudging forward into Eliot’s neck. He breathed him in, catching the subtle notes of Eliot’s aftershave. 

“I could be persuaded to stay up a _little_ longer,” Q said as he started in on the spot above Eliot’s collarbone where Quentin knew he liked to be bitten. 

That night, Quentin Coldwater learned quite a few new things. 

He learned that El could be incredibly persuasive, even when Quentin already wanted to have sex with him and didn’t actually need convincing. 

He learned how to cast Eliot’s favorite of the lubrication spells, because he was endlessly fascinated with the nimble motions of Eliot’s hands and he wanted to memorize each and every one. 

He learned that few things could compete with the gloriously full feeling of Eliot buried deep inside him as Eliot told him exactly how good he felt. 

He learned that falling asleep wrapped in Eliot’s arms helped him to combat the loud thoughts and bad dreams that typically plagued his late nights. 

And as he woke up the next morning, nestled up against Eliot and feeling so warm and safe and _loved_ , Quentin learned that this might actually be a life that he really, honestly wants to live. 


	12. Let Yourself In

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a brief final chapter/epilogue for Feels Like Magic. I've had a wonderful time writing this for all of you and I hope that you enjoy the ending!

 

Weeks later, Quentin Coldwater found himself outside the front door of the Physical Kids’ Cottage. It was raining, of course, because that is the _best_ possible kind of weather to deal with on the day that you are tasked to spend several hours breaking into your new place of residence. 

Q stared at the note pinned to the old wooden door that said, “Physical kids, let yourselves in!” and he figured it couldn’t hurt to just… turn the doorknob. Unsurprisingly, it didn’t budge. 

He tried using magic to pick the lock. Nothing. Maybe a little extra brute force? Nope. Trying to remove it by the hinges didn’t work either. At one point, Quentin nearly lit himself on fire trying to burn the door down. He even ran around the cottage, checking all of the other doors and windows. None of them would open. 

Just when he thought he might be out of ideas, he noticed the small gap underneath the door and got down on the ground to see how much space there was. If he could just shrink down small enough, or turn into a puddle of water, or…

It was then that he spotted something reflecting light at him from the wet grass a few feet away. He crawled over and picked it up; a small shard of metal, maybe brass. It looked like it had broken off of something. Odd. 

And then his mind flickered back to his test earlier in the afternoon. 

-

Professor Sunderland had struggled to find his discipline initially, but when Quentin jumped back in a suddenly burst of frustration, accidentally knocking a glass object off of the lab table, it gave her an idea. 

“Try to fix that,” she had suggested, motioning to the shattered glass on the floor. 

“What? It’s in like, a _million_ pieces; that would take days, maybe weeks,” Quentin panicked, clearly worked up by the fact that he hadn't responded to any of the frankly weird tests she’d put him through so far. 

“With _magic_ , Coldwater."

-

That’s when it hit him. What if there was no coincidence that this piece of broken metal was here, in the grass outside the door of the Physical Kids’ Cottage, of all places? 

He crawled over and started combing through the grass with his fingers, honestly excited when he found another similar piece that definitely belonged to the same object. And another. 

Nearly an hour later, a soaking wet but excited Quentin had gathered up all of the tiny pieces he could find and piled them onto the doorstep. 

Taking a deep breath, Quentin sat up and put all of his focus into performing the minor mending spell and watched as the metal shards lifted into the air in front of him. They floated and turned and twisted around each other, searching for just the right place to connect. A few stray pieces he had missed vibrated on the ground and hovered up to join the others. 

Each time a section found its mate, the pair glowed briefly and fused together. The feeling of reassembling the metal pieces filled Quentin with a rush of joy and satisfaction. There was something about this particular kind of magic that made Q feel whole. Like it was helping him to repair his own broken parts at the same time. 

When he was satisfied with the final result, Quentin held out his hand to grasp the completed object. 

It was a skeleton key. 

Hands shaking, Q slowly stepped over to the old wooden door and fumbled to slide the end of the key into the keyhole, which was made out of the same aged metal as the key. 

He heard and felt a gentle click as he turned the key, and so slowly, he pushed the heavy door open with a creak. Q’s face felt warm as a pleased smile overtook it and he looked up to see a gaggle of curious Physical Kids standing on the other side, waiting to see what would happen. 

Margo, staring at him with her head tilted to the side, was the first to break the silence. “Well, that was anticlimactic.” 

But Eliot, who was practically glowing with pride, rushed over and wrapped an incredibly happy Quentin in a towel and a tight hug. “Well look who’s officially a Physical Kid,” El beamed, placing his hand on the back of Q’s head and pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. “I’m so proud of you. Now drink with us.” 

A few students half-heartedly clapped, probably expecting some kind of violent explosion, and went back to whatever they were doing. Eliot grabbed one of the cottage’s signature cocktails that he had prepared for the incoming physical magic students and brought it over to Q. 

“So how’d you do it? And what’s your discipline, Coldwater?” Margo said, moving closer. She held the record for the quickest cottage entrance back when she was assigned her discipline so she maintained interest in the ways other students found their way in, even if it took them longer. 

And with that, in his new home and surrounded by people who cared about him, Quentin grinned and held up the skeleton key in his hand. You couldn’t even tell that it had been in pieces a few minutes earlier; the places where they connected had seamlessly fused together. 

“Repair of small objects, bitches.” 

THE END 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading and sharing your thoughts with me along the way - your comments always make my day and I'm really looking forward to writing more for you in the future! 
> 
> If you'd like to keep in touch and receive updates when I post my next works (I'm planning a series of themed Quentin/Eliot one-offs at the moment), consider subscribing on my profile.


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